


Light And Cold

by Cheliya



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Eloping, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hate to Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Period-Typical Racism, Slow Burn, Step-parents, Swearing, Tommy's in the zone and it's called the friendzone, school teacher, very slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:48:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27071527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheliya/pseuds/Cheliya
Summary: School teacher Eloise Beckett had known Tommy Shelby her entire life, and he knew her entire life.He wanted her around, but not close. She wanted him away and definitely away. Only destiny had something else in store for them.Set in season 1
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 130
Kudos: 226





	1. Reveal

**Author's Note:**

> Hello guys! This is my second fic on Tommy x OFC. Hope you like it <3  
> The title is inspired by the protagonist of Villette (Lucy Snowe)  
> Edit - check out [this moodboard](https://vintunnavaa.tumblr.com/post/641472329548955648/light-and-cold-made-another-moodboard-for-a-fic-i) I made for this story on Tumblr to know them more.

**Late December, 1918**

_Dear Dad,_

_When you read this letter, I might be somewhere else. But don’t worry about me; I’ve thought this through with a calm head. I will miss everyone everyday, but I won’t regret my decision. I know you’ll say I was bound to end up like Mother but it isn’t about escaping my reality. I have found love; he is a good man, and he will love me as much as, if not more than you. I will send another letter as soon as I have settled._  
_Yours,_  
_Eloise._

  
**Early 1919**

The sound of creaking pedals broke through the general hum of the night. It was late even by Small Heath standards but one couldn’t ignore the wandering locals. Prostitutes, tramps, drunkards peppered the streets like faceless, wobbly creatures, hidden but noticeable in the faint moonlight. Amidst this darkness, a woman hurriedly rode back home on her rumpty pedal cycle, trying her best to ignore the lecherous eyes of men.

Eloise Beckett had turned twenty-five today; not old but not young either but fairly young to be alone and fairly old to be riding a bicycle at this hour. While she wasn’t too keen on gallivanting around, it was her ‘duty’ to look after him. But only today, she realised that he was well capable of doing things even after downing a bottle of cheap alcohol every night. Still, he was her family and she had already once made the mistake of turning her back on her family, a mistake she would never want to repeat.

She was about half a mile away from home when the bicycle wobbled suddenly and sent her tumbling down on the cobblestones. She groaned at the pain that shot through her elbow but willed herself to get up before someone took note of her ‘fallen’ situation. Grabbing hold of the bike, she pushed herself up and was about to get on it when she noticed its refusal to move. 

She bent to look down and a pathetic cry left her mouth at what she saw. Her stepmother didn’t like cursing, especially taking God’s name in vain. But Eloise issued a mental apology before moaning, ‘Oh, dear God!’ 

She inhaled and prepared herself for a lonely (and scary) walk to Garrison Lane, only to stop dead in her tracks at the sound of a deep voice. ‘Eloise?’

She didn’t reply, feigning deafness as she tried get her cycle to move forward and ignore her rapid heartbeat. But he was dogged in his pursuit of being taken seriously. 

Taking hold of her battered cycle, he forced her to stop and asked, ‘What happened?’

She looked away from him and gritted out, ‘Nothing.’ 

He raised a brow and pulled the cycle away from her. ‘Let me see.’ 

‘I said…’ She began but he had already looking down to inspect the dirty front wheel. 

‘Your tyre is punctured.’ He announced with a kick on the injured appendage. 

‘Thank you.’ She said earnestly, as if he told her the meaning of life. 

The corner of his mouth turned up for a second before he went back to his domineering self. ‘Come, I’ll take you home.’ He ordered and held her elbow. 

She immediately shook her head and muttered firmly, ‘It’s not necessary. I can go by myself.’

He moved closer and whispered in a mocking voice, ‘Look around, Eloise, then tell me if you can go by yourself.’

She hesitated, flustered by his proximity and touch. She knew he was right; if riding a bike was dangerous, walking home was lethal. And she didn’t want to die on her birthday or any other day. But she didn’t want to owe anything to him too. 

Clearing her throat, she said breezily, ‘I’ve walked home many times.’

He sighed but made one last attempt, not used to giving up at all. ‘Today is your lucky day, then. Come.’ He gestured at his car.

She shifted from one foot to another, looking at the Shelby car in dread. ‘Thomas.’ She frowned but he had already opened the door. 

‘Get in.’ He commanded, settling behind the wheel in a fluid motion, his eyes on the road ahead. 

Eloise made one last attempt to salvage her pride. ‘What about my cycle?’ She asked hopefully. 

‘Keep it in the back; I’ll have someone repair it. It’ll be at your house tomorrow.’ 

She wasn’t sure, but it sounded like he was gritting his teeth. When she made no move, he got out and made his way towards her abandoned cycle. She watched as a silent spectator as he picked it up and nearly threw it inside. 

‘I have school tomorrow.’ She said indignantly, still not ready to accept his conditions. 

He looked at her as if his patience was hanging by a strand of hair. ‘You can walk, can’t you, Eloise?’

A grudging smile curved on her lips and Eloise finally gave up. ‘So much chivalry will kill you, Thomas Shelby.’ She said with a shake of her head as she sat on the passenger seat. 

He came around and took his seat, giving a look of exasperation in her direction and asked casually, ‘Why aren’t you at home?’

She answered after a moment’s pause. ‘He wasn’t home yet. I thought he would be at the pub, but he left before I got there.’

He clenched his jaw and asked scathingly, ‘Did she send you?’ 

‘I went on my own.’ She said defensively.

He scoffed in response.

‘Where are you coming from?’ She asked; his condescension was beginning to irritate her. 

‘Some place.’ He murmured in slight unease. 

She raised her brows in recognition, then cursed herself for her tactless question. 

They were quiet for the rest of the journey; she in embarrassment and Tommy because of what he had seen in the yard. Fifty semi-automatic rifles. Two hundred pistols. Twenty-five fucking Lewis Machine guns. How the fuck had those weapons ended up in Charlie’s yard? They were supposed to be in Libya, for fuck’s sake. But they would be off his hands soon without any more trouble. Until then, he had to keep them safe and not let anyone from the family find out. 

And why was Eloise roaming around like it was a fucking garden and not an invitation to trouble? Helping her was not an act of kindness; it was plain pity and mild gloating. It felt good to make her cognizant of her present situation. It was fucked up, but he had never cared; she needed to know the truth. 

She muttered thanks when they reached her house, and Tommy came out of his contemplation as he watched her get out. 

‘Eloise.’ He stopped her and she looked at him question. Clearing his throat, he continued, ‘It’s your birthday today.’ 

She wanted to laugh at his grave wish but smiled inadvertently at his effort and remembrance. ‘Yes, it is.’ 

‘Tell your father to pay his dues if he wants to bet on horses again.’

Her face pinched and she promptly rummaged in her pockets before asking tightly, ‘How much does he owe you?’

He exhaled and nodded at a far distance. ‘Enough. Enough to make you and your sister look for newer means of income.’

She closed her eyes to stop herself from bashing him or breaking down in tears. Then, she opened her eyes and swallowed as she extended her hand in his direction, ‘I have ten shillings at present. Will it suffice for now?’ She asked, ashamed of the measly amount in her hand. 

He raised his palm in refusal, not even sparing a glance at the money which could very easily replace the threadbare clothes she presently wore. ‘Happy birthday, Eloise.’ He said and drove away, leaving her standing with her hand proffered forward.

Fisting her hand tightly, she stared at the receding car and muttered, ‘Fucking bastard.’

  
***

  
‘Why are you so late?’ Her ten year old half-sister, Emmaline asked from her permanent position on the sofa placed in front of the window. It provided her and her stepmother with a private and exclusive view of everything that happened in the lane; a privilege they wouldn't give up for anything. Except a life-long reservation at the Ritz in London, perhaps.

'I had a punctured tyre.' Eloise replied as nonchalantly as possible as she shrugged out of her coat and hung it on the hook. 

'I saw a car. The one the Shelbys have.' Her sister continued with her subtle observations. 

'Yeah? They must have gone out.' 

'You were standing near it. I think you were talking to them.' 

Eloise narrowed her eyes at her and said, 'And I think you should be sleeping.' 

'Mum asked me to wait for you.' She grumbled and crossed her arms in resentment.

Eloise gently tweaked her nose and smiled, 'Thank you, Emma.' 

'So, did you kiss him?' She asked eagerly. 

'Go to bed. Now.' She ordered in her school-teacher's voice and Emma nodded glumly. 

'Is Daddy sleeping?' Eloise asked as she pushed her towards their room. 

'Yes. He slept there by mistake.' Emma gestured at the sofa with a laugh. 

'Alright. Now, sleep.' Eloise shooed her towards her smaller bed, a sad smile curving on her lips at her sister's innocence. If only they all could have stayed like that...

Shrugging the thoughts, she walked to sit on her bed, the one she shared with her other sister, Bianca. The room was well-furnished despite its small size and just accommodated the sisters. Other than their room, there was another one of their parents, which was slightly bigger. There was a proper hall, a kitchen and even a bathroom; something rare to find in Small Heath. But David Beckett had once been a well-to-do man and he had made it his mission to give the best life to his family; only the war got in the way and broke his every dream, just like it broke him. 

Still in her thoughts, Eloise jumped slightly at a faint whisper from underneath the covers, 'Tell me what happened.'

'Bianca...' She muttered in annoyance as she laid down beside her, covering herself lest Emma catches them. 

'Thomas Shelby brought you home, Ellie. You will have to tell me everything.' Bianca ordered in a whisper; even she knew how gossip-hungry Emma was. No doubt entire Small Heath knew that too. 

'My bicycle was punctured and he helped me. That's all.' 

She rolled her eyes at her sister's gullibility. 'He doesn't help anyone, he barely looks at anyone.'

'Maybe I am worth looking.' Eloise joked with a hint of bitterness. 

But she shook her head and remarked, 'There is something going on with him, Ellie. I know you don't like to talk about it....'

'I don't.' Eloise interrupted her firmly and almost regretted it. But all Bianca said was, 'Fine. But he gave you ride home tonight and last week, he paid for our drinks at Garrison.' 

Eloise clucked her tongue and muttered in mild impatience, 'Because we didn't have money. He treats us like beggars, Bianca.' 

It managed to earn Bianca's fury and she bit out, 'We aren't beggars. And he is no one to...'

She patted her arm and said gently, 'I know. Let me sleep now, I am very tired.' 

She frowned, remembering how Eloise had left in a hurry to get Dad from the pub, seconds after cutting the small piece of cake she and Emma had bought from Bianca's salary. 'I am sorry, Ellie. I just thought...'

'I know.' She repeated softly and closed her eyes.

While it would be flattering to have Tommy Shelby's attention, Eloise knew he was doing it because he could. No one refused him and she knew he liked having her at his mercy. The reason behind her disregard for it was the same one which had caused a rift between her and her father, and so she didn't answer back. But she hadn't forgotten anything. The only setback was that Tommy remembered everything too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please send your feedback! I would love it if you like it and will upload more chapters soon.


	2. A Day in The Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life of the Becketts. And their connection with the Shelbys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly an insight about the background of Eloise and her family.

‘Look, Bianca! Ada Shelby is leaving!’ Emmaline squealed as she watched the Shelby sister from their omniscient window. 

Bianca joined her soon, her dark eyes hungrily taking in the scene. ‘What I wouldn’t give for clothes like those.’ She moaned and Eloise laughed good-naturedly from the sofa, momentarily diverted from her tattered copy of Jane Eyre. 

‘Where do you think she goes?’ Emma asked, and Bianca shared a troubled look with her older sister, who pretended to be intensely interested in the book she had read close to fifty times. 

Feeling betrayed, she replied, only a little reluctantly, ‘I am guessing the pub. Or Penny Crush.’

But Emma dismissed it. ‘She doesn’t have any friends. Maybe a secret lover.’ She added in delight. 

Eloise joined in at that, finding the conversation more interesting (and less depressing) than Mrs. Reed's heartless dismissal of Jane. ‘But who? Who is so brave to go against the Peaky Blinders?’

Both the sisters said at once, ‘You, Eloise,' and broke into giggles, while Eloise went back to her book, muttering something blasphemous. 

'Girls, what is this noise?' Violet Beckett shouted as she materialised from the kitchen, making her daughters sober up. At thirty-seven, she would've easily passed as the older sister of Eloise with her still slim figure and pretty face. But poverty and a burden of raising three daughters had bent her a little and added lines around her green eyes. For Eloise, she was still the eighteen year old who had braided her difficult hair and told her stories of the prince who rescued his princess on his horse. 

'We were talking about Hugh, Mum.' Emma lied, well familiar with her mother's adoration for the good, Catholic boy. And true enough, Violet reclined on the sofa opposite to Eloise at the mention of her future son-in-law.

‘Oh, I can’t wait to see you married, Bianca.’ She gushed and Bianca gave her a tolerating smile.

‘Ellie, have you finished your embroidery?’ She asked Eloise, eager to add her spinster self in the conversation. 

‘I’ll finish it before bed.’ Eloise replied blandly. 

‘Good. And love, when was the last time you used some powder?’ She asked, as if Eloise's face was giving her a headache. 

‘I have no reason to. The smoke of Birmingham is good enough.’ She joked mildly. 

Her sisters joined in for a chuckle, but Violet was having none of it. 

‘You have a pretty face, dear. Why are you wasting your youth?’ She bemoaned at her stepdaughter's expense.

If it were someone else, Eloise might have given them an dismal account of women being reduced to mere pretty things in the country. But since it was Violet, she just gave a small smile and said, ‘I will take care in the future.’

She was promptly rewarded with a satisfied smile.

Eloise wasn’t averse to looking good and dressing up. At one point, she had even enjoyed it. But now, she didn’t find any motivation in it. She knew her face was fairly pleasant with an easy smile. But her figure was neither lithe nor petite; it was unfashionably lanky after years of bicycle riding and near starvation. The perils of war had forced her to part with her waist length, dark hair and it presently brushed past her neck in a haphazard cut.

People of Small Heath knew her either as the unfortunate step-daughter of Violet or as the homely sister of Bianca, designations Eloise was very much content with. It was only during some lonesome nights did she wish she had Bianca’s silky blonde hair or Emmaline’s sparkly green eyes instead of her own black lustreless curls and bland grey eyes. She didn’t envy her sisters, but she couldn’t deny her life would’ve been different if she had been born to Violet.

***

' _All men are false, says my mother.'_

'Oh, dear.' Eloise muttered that night from her desk at the drunken voice.

'Is it Dad?' Bianca asked sleepily from the bed. 

'Yeah. I heard he lost again.' 

'Where does he get the money from?' She mused, then in a suspicious tone, asked, 'You're not giving him money, are you?' 

'I would buy myself new underclothes if I had shillings to spare.' Eloise muttered, remembering Tommy's parting words from a few days back. _Newer means of income_. Fucking bastard. And to think she had spent a good part of her life around him. 

' _My daddy is a handsome devil.'_

'Sometimes I am glad singing isn't allowed in our pubs.' Bianca groaned after trying to bury her head between the pillow.

'Should we go and get him?' Eloise asked, her usual stoic self frantic as she heard her father's high-pitched bellow. 

'He'll start with another song. Don't worry, no one would trouble him.' 

'Yeah. But Violet...' 

'She's tired. I doubt anything other than a new order of dresses would wake her up.' She said comfortingly. 

Eloise sighed and went back to her geography book. She had been teaching at the elementary school for six years but she never went unprepared. Her diligence towards her profession was almost comical, considering Small Heath's abysmal literacy rate and her own over-qualification for the job. She had passed her matriculation, attended a teaching college for two years, had memorised Latin like her name, only to teach at an obscure elementary school of Small Heath. Once she had dreamt of teaching uniformed, well-behaved kids and discussing the works of Virgil and Horace at a grammar school in the beautiful country, but now, her future seemed as bleak as Birmingham. 

If only she had taken the chance and left...

She waited for a pitiful tear to fall, but it didn't. Even tears were scarce in her life, like everything. 

As she listened to her father's woeful song, she thought about the last time she had cried, only to clench her fists at the reminder of her humiliation at the hands of Tommy Shelby a few months back. Shaking herself off of the painful memory, she focused on remembering something else; a distant memory which wasn't pleasing but wasn't as depressing either. 

****

**Sixteen Years Ago**

Eloise _9,_ Tommy _13_

Rains of Small Heath were another reason why everyone hated the town. Everything was dirtier and stinkier and gloomier.

That day, Eloise was running after a wayward penny when she fell face down in a puddle. Her knees and her palms burned but she ignored them for important things. The penny had rolled away into oblivion. Moreover, her already soaked dress was soiled with dirt now. It was light pink in colour and had small red flowers along the collar, stitched by her stepmother on Eloise's birthday. And today, she had ruined it. Just like she had ruined her mother's books by drawing on them with her crayons and mother had left the next day. Now Violet would leave her too, and she would also take Eloise's new sister with her. Dad would be alone again and he would cry in the kitchen while Eloise waited for her breakfast. 

Feeling helpless, she broke down in tears in the middle of the street, heedless to the passers-by. No one stopped to comfort her either, they were busy in their own woes to look at her. 

Suddenly, through the haze of tears, she saw a pair of bare feet appear in her line of vision and she looked up despite herself. 

It was _him._ The boy with sparkling blue eyes and dark hair, who laughed like there was no tomorrow and rode horses with his mother. Presently, he had a small bruise below his lower lip and his eyes looked a little sad. 

‘Get up.’ He ordered without even raising his voice. 

‘But I am hurt.’ She replied in a small voice, after seeing the abrasion on her knees. 

‘No one gives a fuck about your hurt, _Eloise_.’ It sounded like he was putting in extra effort to pronounce her name. 

‘You aren’t supposed to say that word.’ She admonished and pushed herself up despite the pain. 

He smiled a little and asked, ‘And who told you that?’

‘My Mum.’ She muttered, already anticipating a scathing retort. 

‘You don’t have a Mum, Eloise.' He declared through furrowed brows. 

A sad tear rolled down her cheek. 'Violet said I can call her Mum.' 

'She isn't your mother. Your mother left you.' His tone wasn't jeering, it was merely stating the facts. 

‘You’re bad!’ She yelled nonetheless and began to hobble back towards her home, only to stop when he pulled her by her arm. 

‘Where are you going?’ He asked, almost in a proprietorial way. 

‘Home.’ She sniffled, waiting for him to say she didn't have a home either. 

His tone softened as he saw the redness in her eyes. ‘I'll come with you.' 

She tried to pull her arm out of his grasp but he didn't let go. ‘No, you’re bad.’ 

‘But I will not leave you alone.'

Those words could've been sympathetic, or sadistic, Eloise didn't know. Even now, as she blew the candle on her desk, she realised she didn't know. Her heart wanted them to be kind, so she could let his sins pass and redeem herself. But her mind forced her to believe he was the most vicious creature on the earth. 

****

Violet's soothing voice sauntered in her room the next morning. 'Eloise, love, please give this to Polly on your way to school.' 

Eloise groaned inwardly. Seeing a Shelby so early in the morning was definitely not a good start of the day. Looking at her sleepy sister from over the pile of Polly Gray's clothes, she said, 'I'll bring you a candy if you take this to Watery Lane.'

Emma looked up with a start. 'You said bribing is wrong.' 

Eloise gasped. 'It's not a bribe. It's a treat for helping your older sister.' 

'I don't want to go to Finn Shelby's house.' She huffed.

And I don't want to go to Tommy Shelby's house, Eloise thought and her reasons were surely more valid than a ten year old's. 'Two candies.' 

'Three candies, and a visit to the fair.' Emma shot back. 

She shook her head in frank dismissal. 'No.' 

Emma shrugged, and went back to her putting books in her bag. 

'Fine. But you will not tell Violet about it.' 

She beamed. 'Promise.' 

'Good. Now give this to Polly Gray, and don't even think about talking to them.' She warned and was pleased to see Emma take a step back in fear. 

Emmaline knocked on the door of 6, Watery Lane with her small fist, clutching the cloth bag in her other hand. 'Mrs Gray?' 

'Come in, darlin'.' 

She entered inside the house gingerly, a little scared but mostly excited at being in the house of the Peaky Blinders. 'Mum sent me to give you your clothes.' 

Polly gave her a kind smile and said, 'Keep them here. I'll get the money.' 

'It's alright. Mum said you can give it later.' 

Polly nodded. It was Violet's way of paying for her husband's debts, and while she commiserated with the Beckett women, she had a house to run too. Still, she didn't want the girl to leave empty-handed. 'All right. Would you like something?' 

The girl's eyes sparkled. 'Do you have biscuits?' 

As Emma munched on broken biscuits, Ada ambled in and asked perfunctorily when she saw her, 'How is your sister, little Emma?' 

'Which one?' She asked through a mouthful of biscuits. 

'Both.' Ada replied easily, even though it was Bianca she was more interested in; thinking about Ellie always made her go cold. 

'Bianca is working on her wedding dress and Ellie spilled ink on herself at school.' 

Polly and Ada winced inwardly at the polarity of their conditions.

'You'll be late for school.' Polly gently reminded her, lest she open up the box of her family's secrets. 

'Isn't Finn coming?' Emma asked finally. 

A sad smile curved on Polly's lips as she was reminded of Finn's inability to cope with school. 'He'll come soon.' 

***

The news of a supposed powder-trick at Chinatown spread like fire in the district. And the only person happier than Eloise's father was Eloise herself. If the horse won, her father's debt would be eased. Lesser debt meant lesser penny-pinching, lesser hunger and most importantly, less worrying over Tommy Shelby.

Not only Tommy, her father owed money to perhaps every second man in Small Heath. But since he was old and a war veteran, they took kindness and hadn't asked for money. Yet. Eloise knew it wasn't long before they came knocking on their door too. 

But for today, she could relax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! Please share your feedback and thoughts and everything about the story...I love reading it. And I am so happy by your response for the first chapter, love you all.


	3. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy and Eloise reminisce the day their lives changed, amidst the arrival of a newcomer.

_Deeper than melancholy lies heartbreak_

_Villette._

David Beckett was itching to hear about the results of the race. He had been told in confidence that Monaghan Boy was going to win the race tomorrow and in that anticipation, he hadn't even touched a drop of alcohol since morning. Soon the horse Tommy had betted on would win every race and David would be absolved of every debt, and he wouldn't have to hear his wife's grumbling anymore. 

'Bianca is getting married in a few months. Emma's still in school. How will we manage if you keep blowing away the money?' Violet lamented in the hall of their house. 

Her husband replied in mild contempt, 'I've got money of me own.' 

'Where?' She asked rhetorically and continued, 'Never thought I would have to work for the Gypsies of Watery Lane.' 

'Not one word against 'em.' The steel in his voice made her face blanch but she wasn't one to bow down, especially not to her drunk, debt-ridden husband. 

'They are gangsters, David. I don't know why you like them so much.' She said scathingly. 

His ire rose and he bit out, 'If I 'ad a son like Tommy, I wouldn't have to beg for money.' 

A new voice entered their heated conversation. 'Of course. If you had a son like Tommy, you would be in jail by now,' It was Bianca, who was just like Violet in David's opinion. 

'What nonsense are you talking?' He asked, baffled. 

'They arrested Arthur Shelby this morning. He had a bloody face and broken fingers when he came back.' She said in distaste. 

He looked away, putting an end to the conversation. So the rumours about the copper were true, he mulled. If it was communists Campbell was after, he would've to beware. 

'Dad?' 

It was Eloise. The daughter who tried to be his son, who understood him, who was once his favourite. But now, she was just a reminder of the woman he had once loved, and who had abandoned him. 'What?' He barked.

'Are you alright?' She asked in mild trepidation, the usual sternness in her voice muted. 

'Yeah.' He muttered without looking at her. 

She continued, 'If there is anything...'

He raised a fleshy hand and declared, 'You've done a lot, Eloise. Don't bother.' 

_Sometimes, I wish you were always drunk._ She thought before leaving. 

_So do I._ He told her receding form silently. 

The sisters went inside their bedroom with glum faces, Eloise a bit saddened by the insult and Bianca pitiful of her sister's plight.

'There's a new barmaid in town.' Bianca revealed to make her sister talk. 

She kept rummaging in her pile of books and asked distractedly, 'Barmaid? Haven't seen those in forever.' 

'And she isn't like the others. She is young and pretty.' She added, and just as she had expected, Eloise paused. 

'Are you making fun of other barmaids?'

'Oh, shut up. She just looks rich.' 

'Hmm.' Eloise went back to her papers, not finding the conversation interesting enough. 

'And she was singing.' 

'How?' 

Bianca gave a triumphant smile, pleased to have her attention. 'She stopped when Tommy arrived.'

'She is new, must not know the 'Rules of Peaky Blinders'.' Eloise remarked, already sympathising with the poor girl. 

'Maybe. But do you remember how we used to sing in the pub?'

A ghost of her smile appeared. 'It was a good time. And Dad's voice wasn't so harsh.' 

Bianca said kindly from the bed, 'Eloise, he is troubled. Hugh said it's Flanders blues.' 

She gritted her teeth at the unwanted pity, but still gave a small smile. 'I am not bothered.' 

'But you'll still go to the church tomorrow morning to pray for the horse.' Bianca mused, her petite form sprawled on the bed. 

'I go once every week.' 

'When you are certain Polly Gray won't be in your way.' She pointed. 

'Don't you have anything else to do?' 

To her irritation, her sister only laughed. 'Oh, Ellie. Don't hate the Peaky Blinders. Especially not the dark-haired one.' 

*****

‘Look, Ellie! It’s snowing!’ Emma declared happily from the sofa.

It was a happy day for the Becketts, because David was happy. He had won for the first time in a while and as expected, he was out in the Garrison celebrating. The victory had mellowed him and he had told Violet (who was still in a snit) before leaving, _Just one pint, love_. 

Violet wasn't much concerned though, she had to sew two new dresses by tonight. And since there was only one of her, she had put Eloise to work, who had to put an end to her plans of accompanying Bianca and Hugh to the Garrison. She was somewhat pleased, but...She shook her head to stop herself and focus on the task at hand. 

‘Because it’s winter, sweetie.’ She told her sister, carefully sewing the seams together. 

‘I wanna see it!’ She demanded. 

‘You’re doing just that.’ She replied without looking up. 

‘But I wanna touch it.’ 

She clicked her tongue as the needle pricked her finger. ‘Decide on one thing.’

Emma took her other hand and began cajoling her. ‘Come. We will touch the snow.’

‘I have work.’ She didn't spare her a glance. 

‘For some time. Please.’ She jerked Eloise's arm, making the needle tear the fabric a bit. 

‘All right.’ She relented finally, knowing she won't be able to quiet her. 

Downstairs in the lane, Emma jumped beside her sister to hold the ephemeral snowflakes.

‘I catch a snow, Ellie.’ She smiled jubilantly when she finally had one in her small hands. 

‘Caught a snow.’ Eloise smiled down her sister, who gave her a scowl.

She kept looking down at her small form and pouted, ‘What? I was only-’

At that moment, she crashed into a solid body, close to her stature but strong nonetheless. And growing up in Small Heath, she knew all about ‘accidental collisions’. Without thinking or looking, she pushed the person away and muttered, ‘Can’t you see?’

But all pugnacity vanished when she realised the person wasn’t a drunk lecher, but someone even worse.

‘Eloise.’ He bit out, no doubt dismembering her limb by limb in his head. 

‘Hello, Tommy. Was your mind somewhere else?’ She asked, looking around to find the source of his distraction. She saw a cloud of blond in the dark, but her perusal was cut short when he said in mild derision, ‘You should know where you’re going, Eloise.' 

Her face heated up in the cold and she clenched her jaw until her teeth gnashed. It was beyond spiteful of him to bring it up, especially in front of her sister, on the bloody street. But she steeled herself to hide the hurt. 

‘You have blood on your collar.’ She said in the same tone as his with narrowed eyes and mentally slapped herself for her weak comeback. It was Tommy; blood and cuttings were as natural as air and water.

There was a strange emotion on his face (Embarrassment? Regret? Pity?) as he said, ‘Your father looked happy today.’ 

‘All thanks to you.’ She said sardonically and took a step away from him. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I have to go. And wash your shirt in bleach, or the stain won’t go.’ She called from behind. 

‘Do you know why he had blood, Ellie?’ An eager voice asked when they were back in their house.

 _Damn_ , she had almost forgotten about Emma and her sharp ears. ‘What did I tell you about eavesdropping, Emma?’ 

‘What is that?’ 

‘You shouldn’t listen in. It’s bad.’ She admonished. 

‘I am sorry.' She said unapologetically and continued, 'But I heard he shot Danny Whizz-bang today.’

‘Who told you?’ She asked frantically, scared that Emma had seen something so gruesome. 

‘My friend.’ She said in a small voice. 

Her attempt to hide the truth wasn't lost on Eloise. 

‘You shouldn’t see things like that.’ She murmured to herself, then thought about the murder Tommy had committed. _Murder_. Of his friend. 

She knew Danny was troubled, but he had a family to look after. She taught his boys at the school and Rosie was a customer of Violet's. How could Tommy kill him? He had been in the tunnels with him, for God's sake.

Nonetheless, the information only proved how much Tommy had changed, and how vicious he was.

**DECEMBER, 1918**

Eloise carefully placed the letter beside the lamp in the living room, the heavy suitcase already digging marks on her palms. Looking at the picture of her and her Dad one last time, she whispered, 'I will miss you, Dad. But you always told me to follow my heart, and my heart tells me he is the right man.'

After shedding a few tears of goodbye, she was out of the house she had grown up in. 

It was nearly two in the morning when she reached the cut, which was thankfully bereft of drunkards and prostitutes. It was going to work out fine. In less than an hour, she would be on the train to London, away from Birmingham and the burden of responsibilities. She would be free _and_ with the man she loved.

If only he arrived on time. He was always late, and she was always early. They would have to adjust accordingly after marriage.

Marriage, what a sweet word, she thought dreamily. Full of love, trust, affection and support. In no time, she would be married and living in a small, warm house in the country.

She had just settled near the bank with her suitcase when a young boy approached her out of nowhere. 

‘Miss Beckett?’ The boy, who was James Brown's fifth son asked timidly. 

_Oh dear_. What were her pupils doing here, at this hour? Didn't they have parents? It was not a moment she wanted anyone else to witness, it was his and hers only. 

'Yes?' She asked sternly but didn't admonish him, she wasn't his teacher anymore.

‘A man asked me to give this to you.’ He proffered a letter and ran away.

A bemused look formed on her face. Why would a man give her a letter? She brought it towards the moonlight to read and her eyes widened at the words on the side of the envelope. 

Fear wrapped its fingers around her neck, making it difficult for her to breathe.

 _A letter_ _. A bloody fucking letter_.

But she brushed the fear off, it could be just a joke. Like the time the kids had written 'You are Athaliah' on a piece of paper and left it on her bicycle. She hadn't minded it though; she was rather pleased they had spelled it right. 

She opened the letter with trembling hands, naming her anxiety as eagerness to read a dumb joke or a card her students gave her. But the first six words managed to put her racing heart to a complete stop.

_My darling Ellie,_

_I am sorry but I cannot leave Birmingham with you. You added light in my days, and made me look forward to life. I promise to love you till my last breath but for now, I don’t have the strength to face you._

_Forever yours,_

_George_

She read it again, looking for a redeeming point in the letter. Anything which would prove his loyalty. But there was neither humour nor hesitancy in his words. He was clear in his intentions. She clutched the letter in her fist for a long moment, wishing for it to simply disappear from her palm. But instead, she felt an unwanted pressure behind her eyes, and she forced herself to suppress it. 

_Don’t cry, Eloise Mary. You cannot cry. He doesn't deserve your tears. He doesn't deserve...Maybe it's just one of his jokes and perhaps he will come back. He has to, he promised. Let him come, I’ll show him._

But nothing could change the truth. She had been jilted, and she hadn't even been given the respectability of an altar, but the shame of a dirty, stinky canal.

****

**PRESENT**

Tommy went up to his room with his mind flitting with thoughts of the new barmaid. Her name was Grace Burgess, and she used to sing at a pub in Dublin.

Like hell. It was unlikely to the point of impossible to see a woman like that in Garrison, and he had known at once that she was hiding something. Soon he would find what it was.

But until then, he would have to suffer with the image of Eloise's crumpled face in Garrison Lane. She thought she was the stern teacher who would 'clean' Small Heath, when in reality, she was still the ten year old who kept flowers on empty graves. She wasn’t strong enough for the city, and he could _feel_ her restlessness to flee Garrison. It didn’t help that she had already tried and failed miserably at that. While didn't commiserate with her, he knew he shouldn't have baited her. Her failed escape wasn't a secret, but he was the only one who had witnessed it. And things hadn't been the same for him after that. 

The initial happiness of coming home had somewhat numbed his blues. But it waned away soon, making it difficult for him to stay composed. He managed to keep busy during the day, but night-time made him restless. He wanted to sleep but the shovels and picks didn’t let him, persistently invading his dreams and keeping him on the edge.

The only thing which kept him the same was a faint flicker of hope, but it was going to extinguish in a while. And he didn't want to know what would happen after that. 

On that fated night, he had been leaving the cut after a solitary visit to Charlie’s yard. It was later than midnight when he heard what sounded like a smother amidst the noise of the crickets. He stopped and waited for the noise to change in frequency or pitch. When nothing happened, he went to check despite himself, against the voice of reason. 

‘Stand up.’ He ordered, pulling out his Webley and pointing it at anyone who was hiding in the dark. 

He heard a muted sniffle in response.

‘Who is it?’ He asked, taking slow steps towards the intruder, who sounded like he had a bad cold. His finger was already on the trigger when he came face-to-face with the 'intruder', and he almost dropped the gun at the sight before him. 

‘What are you doing here?’ He asked wearily. 

She didn't respond for a while, roughly wiping her nose with her handstitched kerchief. 

'Eloise?' He asked tersely. 

‘God! Can’t I even cry in peace?’ She wailed in impatience.

He sighed and inched closer, drawing his conclusions from the suitcase beside her. An unusual emotion bubbled inside him as he watched her cry which was miles away from sympathy and somewhere close to exhilaration. Clearing his throat, he asked, ‘What happened?’

‘I don’t want to talk to you. Go.’ She ordered, only her voice was a bit hoarse. Then, as if he had left, she blubbered, ‘You all are bad. Fucking swindlers, you don’t even care about anyone’s feelings.’

‘I’ll take you home. Come.’ He said gently, trying to force sympathy in his words. 

‘I don’t want to come with you. You are bad.’ She gritted out. 

So much for fucking sympathy.

‘And you aren’t fucking nine anymore. So don’t act like it.’ He retorted sharply, finding her condition similar to the young kids who cried about their mothers in France. 

‘You don’t know what happened.’ She whispered. 

‘I know 'e left you.’ He said flatly, and she started crying again. 

‘How can you be so…’ She said accusingly. 

‘Bad?’ He supplied. 

‘Insensitive. _Cold_.’ She emphasised and turned away. 

He had to bite back a smile. ‘Yes, I am.’

But she wasn't in the mood to listen anymore. ‘He said he will love me forever.’ 

He knew the words weren't meant for his ears, but he couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. He inhaled and began to leave, only to look at her one final time.

Relentless tears streamed down her face and she wiped them away with brutal force, making her clear skin appear red and blotchy. The bright smile was nowhere to be seen, and for the first time in a long while, he was angry at someone else's expense. 

‘Leave before sunrise, or I won’t be the only one who knows that.’ He said with his back to her, and heard her gasp as he walked away.

When he was a few feet farther, he found a piece of obstinate paper sticking to his shoe. He rubbed it off on the ground to remove it, but it stayed. Exhaling, he bent down to remove it, only to pause at the words written on it. They weren’t his words, but they were disconcertingly familiar. He didn't remember them himself, but he was certain they hadn't come from George Nash's thick head. 

An old memory nudged him. _Light in the dark. Cold in the blaze._ For a brief moment, he was angrier at himself than at the bastard. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading it, lovelies. Let me know what you think about this chapter and Tommy and Eloise's 'history'. Please share your feedback and thoughts on this chapter.


	4. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Campbell disrupts the peace of Small Heath, Tommy decides to talk things through him. But he didn't expect the copper to unbox his past memories.

_Flowers are silent, but even their silence says a lot_

All dreams of going to the fair were dashed for the Beckett sisters when a copper knocked on their door early morning. Bianca was braiding Emma’s hair so Eloise had to answer it. A decision which led to a nasty bruise from having her head banged against the door. Soon, every corner of their house was being searched with expertise the police had never possessed and every belonging was thrown down in the Lane. 

Since David wasn't home and Violet had nearly fainted at the sight of the coppers, the eldest had to jump in. And it was after a bloody and very irate Eloise threatened to disclose each and every mischief of the Constable’s son to the headmaster did he stop in the frenzied dismantling of their sofa. 

The dispirited sisters set to work soon, taking up every piece of broken artefact inside while Violet gently wiped her eyes with the soft muslin of her sleeves, overflowing with grief.

'I had brought this chest in my dowry. Now it's broken.' She said amid soft mewls. Only Emma was interested enough to give a half smile. 

‘Where is your father when you need him?’ She continued and Eloise gently patted her shoulder before picking up her measly collection of books from the rubble. She wasn't an avid reader but it was the only activity she could afford. The pictures and pubs required money, and horses were a thing of her past now.

If things were the same, she would be with in Charlie's yard now, looking at the new horses and challenging a certain boy to race with her. 

'Eloise, dear, don't you want to keep these books inside?' Violet broke her moment of reminiscence and she realised she was still sitting on the road with the books. 

'Do you think Mum will stop before midnight?' Bianca asked after they had settled everything in its original place. Their father had still not arrived, even though the coppers had left. But they weren't worried about his absence, they had become used to it. 

'I doubt it. They did break her precious china.' Eloise said from her desk, which had acquired new cracks and was missing a chunk from one of the legs. 

'It was one cup.' Emma added. 

'But it was hers.' Eloise pointed out, then remembered something which had perturbed her. 

'Why was Garrison not searched?' She asked. It seemed a bit odd to have every house raided when the main hub of Small Heath was left alone. 

'Maybe Arthur forgot to mention it. He is always forgetting things.' Bianca said snidely. 

'Do you know the new barmaid is from Ireland, just like the copper.' Emma divulged. 

But Eloise wasn't interested anymore. She got up from the desk to stretch her sore arms and said, 'All I know is that I need to take a bath after today's events.' 

***

She had just got out of the bathroom when Violet's voice yelled, 'There's someone at the door, Ellie!'

She let go of her towel and hurried towards the door, heedless to the water seeping through her shift. She opened the door in mild trepidation, still hurting from the bruise on her forehead. _Let that Constable's son come to school, I'll show him._

An involuntary sigh left her mouth when she found Thomas Shelby leaning against the doorway, impatient and irritated by someone somewhere in the world. 

He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes roaming all over body and taking in every detail, from the damp hair to her now damp shift. When he didn't stop in his perusal, she cleared her throat meaningfully, suppressing the urge to look down to check if everything was proper. He barely reacted to being caught and instead, threw a coin in her direction.

‘Bring your picture of the King to Watery Lane.’ He stated. 

Letting the coin fall at her feet, she said curtly, ‘We don’t have any.’

He raised an eyebrow and said, ‘Keep the coin then. Get yourself a proper dress.' 

She gave him a death glare but couldn’t say the choicest words with Violet in vicinity, letting him go with a bored look on his face. 

***

**19 Years Ago**

For the first six years of her life, Eloise had only heard about the Shelbys. Her mother called them wild and uneducated and had forbidden her from ever associating with them. She knew they were three brothers and one sister, they had a betting shop and their father was always fighting or drinking. Their mother seemed nice, with her light blue eyes and light brown hair. She could be seen riding a horse with her kids, always happy and laughing. 

Sometime after her mother left, she had been drawing in her books, something she did to curb her loneliness when Ada Shelby came to see her. She was younger but Eloise had liked her for her straightforwardness and clean heart. One day, she had taken her to Watery Lane and Eloise had been a little surprised to find no chickens or horses inside their house, unlike her mother always said. 

'Mum! Look who I’ve brought with me.’

'Who is it, Ada?' A voice asked from the kitchen.

'Ellie.' Ada replied, finding the nickname better than her actual name. She was the first one to call her Ellie, her mother always called her Eloise Mary and father didn't like to ruin her given name. 

‘Are ya David Beckett’s daughter?’ The beautiful woman asked her.

Eloise nodded.

‘Her mother left ‘er, Mum.’

Eloise looked down at the mention of her mother, her eyes filling suddenly.

‘Ada, go drink yo’ milk.’ The woman admonished and sent Ada away. Eloise was about to follow her when she stopped her and asked, ‘What’s yo’ name, love?’

‘Eloise Mary.’ She replied obediently. 

‘What does that mean?’ She smiled. 

‘I don’t know, my mother named me.’ She replied in a small voice. 

‘Tis a pretty name. Just like ya are.’

She smiled. ‘Thank you. You have pretty eyes.’

She laughed. ‘Do ya like 'orses?’

She gave a hesitant nod.

‘I take me kids to Charlie’s yard, 'ave ya been there?’

She nodded again. ‘Once.’ When Dad had made her sit on the horse and at home, Mum had complained she was smelling like horseshit. 

‘Come with us then.' 

***

At present, as she looked at the horse Tommy had brought from the fair, she couldn’t stop herself from touching it.

‘What do you think?’

She jumped abruptly at the familiar voice. 

‘I was only looking.’ She said defensively before he could call her a thief.

He gave a small smile and nodded, ‘I know. Do you like 'im?’

‘It’s like the one…’ _your mother showed us._

‘Yeah, 'e is.’ He told her right shoulder. 

‘Did you fight with the Lees for him?’ She took up the courage to ask him, a little warmed by his mood. The mention of his mother always softened him, she realised sadly. 

If Tommy was not preoccupied with thoughts of her in the damned shift, he might've asked her how she knew about his fight with the Lees. But he just shrugged, ‘Maybe.’

She smiled, ‘He’s worth it.’

Motioning at the horse with his cigarette, he asked, ‘Do you want to take him for a ride?’

She shook her head, ‘I have afternoon lessons, I’ll be late.’

He gave a short nod and asked, ‘Is your pedal cycle working?’

She smiled wryly. ‘As smoothly as any seven year old cycle would.’

‘Get yourself a new one.’ He mildly ordered. 

‘I didn’t know it was possible, or I wouldn’t have repaired it .’ She said in mock-wonder.

He snorted and walked in front of the horse to straddle him. 'It's been good seeing you, Eloise.' 

'Wait, Tommy.' She said before he could ride away to the betting shop. 'I came here to give you this.' She pulled out an envelope from her bag and extended it in his direction. 

'What is it?' He looked down in confusion. 

Squinting her eyes to look at him, she said, 'I got my wages today. Thought I would clear Dad's dues.' 

'It's taken care of.' He looked in front, preparing to leave. 

'But you said...' _that I'll become a whore._ She gripped at the envelope tighter at the memory. 

'Don't worry about it. I think there's time.' He said sardonically before riding away, reminding Eloise to never talk sweetly to him. At least for another month. 

***

It was a slow day at the pub when a woman asked, ‘Can I have a pint of mild?’

Grace nodded at the new customer. She didn't look like the others with her nicely combed hair and well ironed clothes. And while she did have a Brummie accent, it wasn't as strong as the others, which added a note of melody to her voice. Grace was wondering if she sang too when another woman joined her, bustling through the pub in eagerness. 

‘Ellie, you won’t believe what I heard.’

‘Then don’t tell.’ 'Ellie' replied dryly. 

But the other woman couldn't hold in the news. ‘Ada is pregnant.’

‘What?’ Ellie looked at her in shock at the 'news'. Through Harry, Grace knew Ada was the only sister of the Shelbys and she had seen her go across the lane in expensive fur. She wasn't so surprised to find her pregnant, considering how the people here lived. 

‘Yeah. Guess who the father is?’

‘Bianca…’ She muttered, aware of Grace's eyes on her. Grace turned around to clean the glass ostensibly but kept her ears on their whispers. 

‘A union convener.’

‘I always knew.’ She almost sounded jubilant at her win. 

‘Yeah. Tommy lost his head at the Penny Crush.’

‘How did you know?’ She asked in a normal voice as Grace gave her the drink. 

‘Two for us.' The other woman told Grace before going back to her conversation and Grace realised a man had joined them when her back was turned. _So they weren't those women._ But she had doubted Ellie was a whore, considering her prim attire and proper speech.

'I got off early and went to see the Rudolf Valentino picture with Hugh.’ 

‘I envy you.’

‘How many kids did you eat for lunch today?’ She asked jokingly and Hugh gave a gentle smile. 

‘Shut up, Bianca.’ Ellie rolled her eyes and turned away from her. 

‘Honestly, Ellie, if one more kid comes begging for mercy, I’ll poke his eyes with Mum’s needle.’

‘I am only doing my job.’ She sounded almost sad. 

‘Or you’re waiting for Mr Lawrence to send you to grammar school.’

Her words had a renewed animation as she stressed, ‘If there’s anyone who deserves that promotion, it’s me.’

Bianca patted her hand, ‘I know.' 

‘Your drink.’ Grace broke their moment as she placed two glasses before them. Their intimacy showed that they weren't just friends, perhaps family. 

‘Thank you.’ Bianca said kindly. 

‘Are you a teacher?’ Grace asked Ellie. 

She gave her a genuine smile, and Grace noted that she wasn't plain, just unhappy. ‘Yes. Elementary school. Thank God for the shortage of teachers or I would be barred from even breathing in a pub.’

‘The world’s too cruel on women.’ Grace said with a smile, already liking her. 'Imagine being called a whore in your face.' She revealed, but regretted it when both of them shared a look. But they didn't say anything about that.

‘I know. Where are you from? Ireland?’ Bianca added with a cloying smile.

‘Galway.’ Grace replied shortly, the other one was too inquisitive. 

‘What brings you here, Grace?’ She asked again, rather interrogated. 

‘Work.’

But she must have noted her resistance and didn’t prod further, going back to talking about some strike at BSA factory. 

The general hum of the pub quieted down abruptly and Grace had worked long enough to know it was one of the Peaky Blinders. Everyone was subdued around them, when they weren't so gentlemanly themselves. Except their leader, Thomas, who looked out of place in the dirt of Small Heath, just like the woman seated in front of her, whose pleasant face was puckered in a grimace. A very hateful grimace. 

Her grimace stayed even when Arthur sought her out and asked, ‘What are ya upto, Ellie?’

‘Nothing much, Arthur. I heard you had a run-in with the coppers.’ She replied as she took a sip of her drink. 

He nodded through clenched teeth, but didn't kill her like Grace had first thought. 

‘Don’t worry, Arthur. You’ll find yourself a good woman one day, she’ll heal you.’ Bianca said earnestly, a small smile on her lips. 

‘What about ya, little Beckett? Is your man not marrying ya anytime?’ He asked, looking at the man beside her with a crude smirk. _So they were sisters._ But why were they so friendly with Arthur? 

‘Aren’t we cheeky?’ She said sweetly before her man could jump in. Grace didn't think he would anyway. 

'It was good to see you, Arthur. But we have some work.' Eloise said politely as she hopped off the stool. 

'Come to Watery Lane someday, love. Ya too, little one.' He nodded at Bianca, pointedly ignoring her man. 

'Not when you send coppers to our house, Arthur.' Bianca retorted as Eloise and Hugh pulled her out of the pub. 

To Grace's shock, Arthur gave a short laugh and got up to leave for the parlour without losing the smile. 

***

LICKEY TEA ROOMS

Tommy was growing impatient by the second at Campbell's dilly-dallying and inability to make a decision. It had more to do with pride than inherent weakness, for he refused to accept that Tommy was the one holding power. Still, he waited for the copper to agree to his side of the deal with patience when all he wanted to do was give him a bruise like the one Eloise had. When he had talked to the reporter that night, all he had thought about was the blood on Eloise's forehead and her clear disregard for it. When they were kids, she would-

Campbell's voice broke through his memories and he stated, ‘Issues about your sister aside, I also found some information about a man who lives in Garrison Lane.’

Tommy stiffened but didn’t give him any clue of his awareness. 

‘You are sending a stipulated amount of money to David Beckett every month, who happens to be a former communist himself.’ He continued in a smug voice. 

When Tommy didn't reply, he asked, ‘What do you have to say about that?’

‘He’s old an’ sick. I’d do the same for a beggar on the streets.’ Tommy said mildly. 

‘But you don’t, do you?’ Campbell asked with a smirk. 

Exhaling, he said, ‘David Beckett isn’t needed in this world by anyone, not even 'is own family. He isn’t a threat.’

‘Whatever you say.' Campbell shrugged and Tommy was relieved that they weren't talking about his 'act of kindness'. But he couldn't be more wrong.

'Some daughter he has, though.' He mused and Tommy's involuntary look of surprise, added, 'She paid me a visit yesterday midnight, smelling of roses.’

Tommy kept looking at the Inspector, schooling his expressions to stay impassive and bored.

‘You like roses too? Or just her?' 

'Do we have a deal? I need an answer. Right now.' He said instead, reminding the fucker who held the power. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! Please share your thoughts, I know it's a bit confusing but it'll sort out.


	5. Letters To Tommy

_"You have seen letters of her writing?'_

\- Villette.

It was Eloise's second day at the church and just like yesterday, her prayer was the same. 

'Please bring Dad back home in one piece. I promise to never throw chalks at the kids.’ She said in a low whisper.

She ignored the brisk clack of shoes coming from behind and continued with her litany. Only it was halted in between when someone pulled her up with bruising force, their strong hand encircling her entire arm. Before she could make sense of anything, she was served with a blistering question.

‘What did you tell the copper?' 

'Tommy!' She yelped in pain and surprise but he didn't loosen his hold on her, pulling her close as his hands grasped both of her arms. 

'What did you fucking say?' He repeated with rare anger in his words, his face an inch away from hers. 

‘About what?’ She asked even as she got a slight inkling of what he was talking about.

He pointed his finger in her face and warned, ‘Stop your fucking games. I know you went to see him last night.’

She narrowed her eyes and said sharply, ‘So what if I did? Not everything is about you, Tommy.’

The anger on his face vanished and he asked, genuinely surprised instead of contemptuous, ‘Are you a whore now?’

‘Better than someone like you.' She bit out in condescension. 

They kept looking at each other with fire in their eyes, none of them keen to bow down first. When the disapproving footsteps of the pastor reminded them of their closeness, she wrenched herself out of his now slack hold and took a step back.

Tommy cleared his throat and began, ‘Eloise, if you are-’

She took a sharp inhale at his insinuation and forced out, hating herself for justifying her actions to him, ‘He arrested Dad yesterday. Since no one there, I had to go and talk to him. That’s it.’

He furrowed his brows and asked, ‘Why was he arrested?’

‘The copper said he was with some woman on the streets. But Dad wouldn’t do something like that.’

If she was expecting him to behave like the old Tommy and fight every cruel person on the earth, she was in for a disappointment. Because he looked almost relieved, and no longer curious about her meeting with Campbell.

Satisfied, he turned to leave but stopped to ask with his back facing her, 'Do you read old letters, Eloise?' 

Earlier, his seemingly unrelated questions regarding the topic at hand fascinated her. But now, all she felt was a deep sense of foreboding.

‘Why?’ She asked warily as she sat down on the wooden bench. 

He turned to look at her from sideways, 'If you have any sense, burn the letters like I did.' 

'You burned the letters?' She asked in a matter-of-fact voice against the sharp stab in her throat. 

'Yeah.' He nodded, looking ahead. 

Since he was being open with his feelings, she decided to ask her own burning question. In a clear voice, she asked softly, her voice inaudible to anyone expect Tommy.

'Tommy, did you steal the guns?'

His eyes flashed but he held in the fury as he asked, 'Why would you think that?'

She looked away, suddenly scared of him. He had the same look at the yard when Charlie mentioned the guns, and Eloise knew what would've happened if he wasn't his uncle. She wasn’t his uncle.

As his eyes willed her to answer, she confessed, 'I...I was at the yard that day when Charlie gave you the bullet from the Lees. I heard him say something about guns, and now you're talking about the copper, I thought maybe...'

 _Fuck,_ Tommy thought as he sat on the opposite bench. He mulled over the repercussions of having another person privy to the classified information. There weren't many, and if there were, they weren't serious. He had already made a deal with Campbell, and what Eloise knew didn’t matter as long as the guns were hidden in a safe place. Yeah, he could deal with Eloise. For now.

'Why did you steal-'

'Shut up.’ He ordered. But did teachers ever listen to you?

'Freddie left town because of this.' She got up and accused, her fear replaced by anger. 

'Eloise, mind your fucking business.' He sounded like he was scolding her, when it was his mistake to begin with.

She took a look around the empty church before asking in her stern voice, 'What about the baby? What about your sister? You are making Freddie take the bullet once again, Tommy.’

He stood up close to her, so close he could smell the fucking roses and whispered, 'Keep your ears away from our family.' He pushed past her to leave finally but didn't hold back from saying, 'Let me know if Campbell bothers you again.'

'What can you do?' She yelled back derisively but he didn't even acknowledge it as he strode out of the church. 

***

As soon as Eloise reached her home, Violet asked her to chop onions for dinner and for the first time, she ignored her. While she was least bothered by Tommy's act of stealing, it had led to all the trouble in the first place. But what else could she expect from him? Presently, all she wanted was for her book to be untouched. 

She hurried inside her room and stopped at her desk, pushing away the papers and lamp to get to her book. Her hands stilled on the ragged Villette, and she frantically searched between its old papers, only to come up short.

‘What’s wrong, Ellie?’ Bianca asked from the door, alarmed by her sister's agitated actions.

‘Nothing. I can’t find…’ She stopped, not wanting to tell her. 

‘This?’ Bianca asked, and Eloise looked up to find her sister holding a mouldering piece of paper in her hand.

‘Since when did you have it?’ She snapped and got up to take the letter back, but Bianca moved her hand. 

‘I took it from the constable.’ She said patiently, ignoring Eloise's increasing unease. 

She gasped, remembering the break-in from a few days back. ‘Did he read it?’

Bianca shrugged, 'He must have read some things, but I doubt he would remember much.'

She kept the letter on the table and left, and Eloise’s shoulders drooped as regret and despair enveloped her in the stifling cocoon. 

***

****1915** **

Dear Tommy,

How are you? You must be in France by now. Are you liking it there?

We got Dad’s letter yesterday, he said you are all in big hut together and have to wake up at six every morning. He was complaining about the food and asked Violet to send some cob instead of stories about her sheared hair and torn clothes. Even I had to cut my hair since it was getting in the way. Don’t tell anyone, but I may have cried a little about it.

How is your training going? Are you eating properly? Do you sleep on time? Don’t worry about Polly and Ada, we see one another every once in a short while. Finn and Emmaline have become friends in a short while, she’s always teasing him and he called her a yampy yesterday. I don't want to know where he heard that from. 

My position at the elementary school has been secured, thanks to Mrs Changretta. Also, since teachers are in demand and the men aren’t here, they have been letting women teach at grammar schools. Do you think I should apply too?

Take care of yourself and please write if you find time. I’ll wait for your letter.

Yours,  
Eloise.

****1916** **

Dear Tommy,

I hope you are getting on well in France. It is a relief that the battle of Verdun and Somme finally came to an end, I cannot wait for the war to get over and have you boys back at home again. 

It is presently midnight in Small Heath. I am writing under the flame of the lamp and Bianca has threatened to stab me with her pens if I don’t put it out. But I cannot sleep.

I don’t feel good at that school anymore, it is so bleak and unhappy. I like the kids, but there isn’t anything I am doing for them, except forcing them to study when their fathers and mothers both are fighting a war. A small boy lost his father at Somme, and a girl’s mother succumbed to consumption a few days back. How can I expect them to study when there is no certainty of tomorrow?

In hopes of leaving all this behind, I finally applied at the grammar school, like I told you before. But I don’t know if I want to leave Small Heath. You’re the only one who knows about it, I haven’t even told Bianca. Do you think I should take the offer?

I am extremely sorry for disturbing you with my troubles when you are away fighting. But you were the one who always listened. 

Don't feel pressured to write back, I understand what you must be going through. Just know that I am happy you are still safe and sound. I read in Dad’s letter that you are a Sergeant now, hearty congratulations for your promotion. But now that you have men to look after, don't forget to take care of yourself. 

Yours,

Eloise.

****1917** **

Dear Tommy, 

A very happy birthday to you. I don't know when you'll get this letter, but I hope it only gets delayed by a day or two. With the war going on, I know it's not a day for celebrations, but I won't let you go until I get my treat. After you get back, of course.

I am teaching two of John's kids this year and they are a nuisance to deal with it, especially when they call me by my name in class. And I didn't know kids so young played wag from school. But it's good to see some happiness in the gloom. The rationing has led to near starvation in our area, and I am seeing people fighting for a piece of bread and a morsel of jam. Everyone is waiting for the war to end and for you boys to return with a bated breath. Polly prays for you every morning before going to the betting shop and while Ada tries to be strong, she misses you every single day. 

I am sorry if I am talking like a fool, but I just miss you and everyone so much. Come back soon. 

Yours,   
Eloise. 

Tommy never wrote back, but she never stopped sending letters. She was almost happy he didn’t reply, she didn’t feel the burden of his judgement and polite solicitude. With Tommy, she could share things she couldn’t talk to her sisters and George about. She could tell him her fears without worrying about modesty and propriety. He provided a quiet, steady support without putting his own burden on her.

Several months before his return, she had fallen down the stairs and broken her wrist, putting a pause to her letter writing for two whole months. She had been restless, itching to write to her father, George and the Shelby brothers. But she had known they wouldn’t notice; everyone had someone to write to them. Dad had Violet, George had his mother, the Shelbys had Polly, Ada and Martha, no one would miss Eloise’s long, sometimes gloomy letters. And it had been the truth.

Until a letter arrived at their house, from someone who never even replied to her letters. She didn't open it at her home, afraid of getting caught by her sisters or Violet. Instead, she took it to her school and pulled it out to read during lunch. 

She remembered opening it with careful hands, afraid of tearing it and losing some precious words from him. 

Eloise,

I did not get your letter for your while. I thought you are angry I did not write back, and I know how you get when you are angry.

France is tough, it takes away every second of your life. There are drills, route marches for hours and at night, we sleep to the sound of the shells exploding. A while back, I had to leave John and Arthur behind to go underground. Freddie and Danny are with me, but I think about my brothers every second. You know how Arthur is, and how John is always looking for trouble. But I’m sure your Dad keeps them in check.

I have been in the tunnels for a while now. There is risk at every step and every turn. You do not know if it is day or night in the tunnels, and the dark and sounds of shovels are your only companions. Sometimes, I feel I will live. But mostly I am scared. Scared of an attack or bullet or death. I have seen my men die right before my eyes, killed a lot more to save myself. I have let my friend take a bullet meant for me, and I don't think I would've forgiven myself if something happened to Freddie. 

~~I don’t write back but I always look forward to your letters. They are a respite from the dark days~~ ~~and give me hope to continue.~~

Tommy

P.S. I found a rose petal in your last letter, it reminded me of you and your house. Send it in your next letter if it is not much trouble. 

It had taken her a while to process the letter, it was short but still comprehensive. In a few words, he had told her about his troubled conscience and fears and she had understood. She had also tried very hard to discern the slashed words at the end, and could only make out ‘dark days’ from it. But she didn’t think much about them, for she was drinking in the rest of the letter with thirsty eyes.

After she had read and re-read his letter ten times, she sat down to write she had hurt her wrist and apologised for troubling him. She also sent condolences and concerns, and plucked a couple of petals from their ten year old rose plant to encase them in the letter. As she had expected, he didn’t reply. But she carefully folded his letter and placed it in her Villette, certain no one would open it. Bianca was always after George's poetic and good-humoured letters and Violet was too busy with her own troubles to bother with her ‘dirty, old books.’ 

Now, as she remembered Tommy's words, she wondered if she had made a mistake by keeping his letter. It was something lovers did, not two people who had been friends in the distant past. Sniffling away the threatening tears, she crumpled the soft paper in her hands and let it fall in the burning fireplace, for her and for him. Because writing the letter must have caused him pain and she was carrying the weight of his pain against his will.

As she watched the letter burn, Bianca’s voice joined her. 'I thought Tommy never replied.' 

'It was once.' She said dismissively.

'And in one letter, he told you things he never told anyone.' Bianca said quietly. 

'Do you think people know?' Eloise asked nervously, afraid that the copper had jeered at Tommy for writing about his struggles.

Campbell was an abominable man to the core and Eloise couldn't forget the smug look on his face after she had told him her name. Instead of telling her about her father's release, he had only asked if she was Tommy Shelby's former sweetheart. Her look of pure disgust must have answered his question and he told her her father would be out by next week. He barely informed her about the nature of her father's crime and Eloise was beginning to suspect there was a deeply rooted problem, in general and with the copper. But she had yet to find out what. 

'Why, what happened?'

'Tommy knows I still have this. I think the copper told him.’

She waved her hand dismissively, 'That constable is a dense fucker. He would've read the romantic part and reported about it to the copper.' 

Eloise knew Bianca was trying to appease her but she couldn't help herself from asking in confusion, 'What romantic?'

Her sister heaved a sigh of disbelief. 'God, Eloise. How can you call yourself a teacher? Can't you read in between the lines?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your love and please share your thoughts and feedback.


	6. Enmity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to re-upload again, sorry if there was any inconvenience

“... _he was spiteful, acrid, savage; and, as a natural consequence, detestably ugly_.”- Villette

Finn Shelby knew he was treading in dangerous waters by walking to Emmaline Beckett's house. But she had taken away his cap at the cut, and it wouldn’t be long before his brothers questioned him about its absence.

It wasn’t just Emma he was scared of, though. It was Miss Beckett. She had been his teacher last year, and the memories about her strict punishments were still fresh. She didn’t hit her students like the others; she gave detention and made them write long passages. Not in English, but in some strange language Finn could barely read, let alone understand. If she found mistakes, she would make them stay longer and personally drop them home. She then stayed for tea and told their parents everything there was to know about their kids. And it was never nice.

Finn was her ‘favourite’ but after his brothers arrived, school had been a formality mostly. He would’ve been happy, were it not for Emma’s persistent mocking about his gang, and he couldn’t even complain about it, or everyone would make fun of him. 

‘Finn Shelby!’

He cursed inwardly, and looked up to find Miss Beckett standing on the roof with a bucket in her hands. 

‘Miss Beckett.’ He greeted timidly.

‘Why aren’t you at school?’

He frantically searched for an excuse, and began to perspire under her gaze. ‘It’s a Sunday.’ He said in relief. 

‘Hmm.’ She pursed her lips and went on with hanging her clothes on the rope.

‘Are you looking for something?’ She asked after Finn had taken a walk from the Garrison to her house. Three times. 

‘Nothing, Miss Beckett.’

‘I see.’

She definitely didn’t, because she made no attempt to move from her position.

Remembering his brothers' words of manning up, Finn took an inhale and asked, ‘Is Emma home?’

‘She’s studying.’ She said flatly as she picked up a wet cloth from inside the bucket. 

He braved himself to request, ‘Can you send 'er down?’ 

‘No, I cannot.’ She said as she wrung the cloth with the enough force to make it suffocate. 

His face fell. ‘But…’

‘Come on upstairs.’ She gestured at him with the now empty bucket. 

He felt sweat trickle down from his hair to down his spine as he gave her a rigid nod. _That's how an eleven year old knew about hell, Tommy_.

'

'Well, well. What brings little Finn here?' Bianca asked when he walked in, and Finn gave a lovelorn smile. She was the prettiest person he had ever seen and unlike her sisters, she didn't make fun of him or give any punishments. The only thing he didn't like was that she called him little Finn. 

'Emma's taken me cap. I need it.' He declared, no longer little Finn. 

'Do you now?' Emma's cackling voice emerged and he gritted his teeth. 

'I'll tell me brothers about you if you don't give it.' 

'And what will your brothers do, Finn?'

He froze, it was Miss Beckett's voice. Some boy had once called her Arthur on a piece of paper and had stuck it on her bicycle. Finn hadn't understood the reason behind that, but now when Arthur got mad, he realised they weren't wrong. 'Nothing. I was just joking.' He muttered. 

She walked around to sit down on the sofa. 'You've stopped coming to school Finn. Don't you like studying?' She asked as both Emma and Bianca left the room, snickering. 

_No one likes it_. 'I do.' He said in a small voice. 

'If I don't see you at school tomorrow, I'll come to your house to take you.' 

'But I am a runner.' He entreated. 

'You are a kid. Ask your brothers to talk to the headmaster if they don't want you to study anymore.'

'Yes, Miss Beckett.'

'Now run, little runner.' 

****

Just as she had thought, Finn didn't come to school, but she wasn't too eager to fulfil her threat. It involved going to Tommy's house, who was the most arrogant, rude and downright detestable person in the whole world and she would rather poke her eyes than ever see him. But his horse hadn't done anything wrong. So she went to check on him at the yard when she was certain Tommy wouldn't be in her way. 

She greeted Charlie and Curly but didn't tell them the reason behind her visit; they swore allegiance to Tommy and had forgotten that she had grown up in the yard too. She went inside the stable to search for the horse, only to come up short.

Maybe Tommy has taken him, she thought glumly and began to leave, but halted as another person entered in. 

'Are you searching something, Ellie?' Curly asked her with a smile. 

'Where is the horse, Curly?' She asked. 

‘Which one?’

‘The one Tommy got from the fair.’ She said impatiently. 

‘He's dead.' A flat voice joined from behind. 

She clenched her jaw at his voice but his words made her insides churn. 'Curly, what happened to him?' She asked anxiously. 

'He was cursed by the Lees.' Tommy supplied. 

She ignored the increasingly distressed look on Curly's face and prodded, 'How did he die?'

'I shot 'im.' He deadpanned and gestured at Curly, 'Go out, Curly.' 

Curly welcomed the order and left with a sad look, leaving her alone with _him_ of all people. 

'Why are you here?'

She crossed her arms and looked away from him. 'You should know that I'm not talking to you.'

'I didn't ask if you were.'

Infuriated beyond words, she turned to poke at his chest with her finger and shouted, 'Go to blazes, Tommy. I hate you for what you said at the church. If I wasn't preoccupied with Dad and everything else, I would've-'

Her threat was halted midway when he slammed his lips on hers without warning. For a moment, she was too shocked to react and in the next moment, she was too dizzy to stop him. It wasn't a chaste kiss, it was a deep, carnal kiss, the kind which was making Eloise go weak on her knees, but she didn't pull away from him. Instead, she held onto his shirt for support, pulling him closer.

Encouraged by her response, he deepened the kiss by forcing his tongue inside and she moaned, almost gasping for air. He didn't hold her hand, didn't even caress her cheek, but she felt him everywhere, from her lips to the secret space between her legs. 

Whimpering, she closed the distance between them and put her arms around his neck. He finally put his arms around her waist and was about to lift her up when a voice echoed in. 

‘Tommy’s in there.’

They sprang apart at Curly's stammer, and she lurched way from him while he took deep, slow breaths to bring his breathing back to normal. 

'Eloise.' He began with what she expected would be a contemptuous rebuke, and she refused to hear his balderdash. Not when she was so confused and angry at herself. 

'I am sorry,' she whispered instead and left the stables hurriedly, incorrigibly licking the taste of cigarettes and Tommy from her lips. 

That night in the privacy of her room, as she sewed flowers on a veil she had been given in secret, she wondered what Tommy would've said if she had let him. Would he have mocked her for her wantonness? Or would he have done something that people did after kissing someone? While she was almost glad she didn't know, she was curious to know the reason behind his own 'wantonness'. Everyone said that while Tommy had won medals, he had lost his heart in the battlefield. Then why the kiss? What could be his ulterior motive? 

'Who is this for?' Bianca asked before she could hide the veil away. 

'I can't tell.' She murmured and continued threading it. 

'Ada Shelby. Or Ada Thorne.' Emma announced smugly. 

She looked up. 'How do you know?'

'Ellie, this is Emma we are talking about.' 

She gave a grudging smile, 'Fair enough. Do you want to go to the wedding? Ada said we could come.' 

'Nah. I think we're taking a risk just by sewing her a veil.' Bianca laughed and reclined on the bed. 

'Tommy Shelby and his fucking threats.' She gritted out and poked a hole through the thin cloth in the process. 

'What did he do this time?' Bianca asked wearily. She was getting tired of seeing Tommy and Eloise's game of cat and mouse. While she knew her sister refused to fall for anyone after the bastard George left her, she had seen Eloise watch Tommy with adoring eyes her entire life. If only Tommy stopped acting like they were still kids and thought it would be alright to scare Eloise with dead rats and unloaded guns. 

'Nothing.' She said evasively. 

'Dad said he had something to do with his release.' Bianca revealed.

Their father had arrived home finally, and while it was a great relief, it had put some strain on his marriage. Violet refused to believe his own reason behind his arrest and Dad wasn't too keen on justifying himself either. If it weren't for their debts, they would considering a separation, a possibility which kept Eloise awake for hours at night. 

The mention of Tommy made her furrow her brows. 'When?' 

'At dinner. When you were making mountains of potatoes.' She said, not taking her eyes off her sister. _Something_ had happened. The usually put together Eloise was lost somewhere, and Bianca prayed it was because of Tommy. 

But Eloise gave a bitter smile and said, 'Don't mind but Dad would happily give up all three of us if he could have a son like Tommy.'

'I don't. But do you think Tommy talked to Campbell about Dad?'

'I don't know what goes in his head, and I don't want to know either.' She sighed and set the finished veil aside to rub her eyes. 

***

Just a day before Cheltenham, the betting shop saw a forbidden, but more than that, an unexpected customer in the form of Eloise Beckett. Thanks to her relationship with the Shelbys, no one dared to stop her. And judging from her stern expression, no one wanted to either. She stopped when she reached Tommy's small office and entered without asking, trying to control her trepidation. He looked up in mild displeasure but his expression became wary when he realised it was Eloise. 

'Why are you here?' 

She shut the door in response.

A cocky smirk curved on his lips and he told her, 'They can still see us.' 

She turned her back on the glass and asked, baffled, 'What?'

He exhaled and pulled out a cigarette as he asked, 'What brings you here, Eloise?'

She swallowed to prepare herself and blurted, 'I have to tell you something, it's about the barmaid.'

He bent as he lit the cigarette with his matchstick and motioned, 'Go on.' 

‘I saw her in Sparkbrook.’

‘Doing what?’ He asked disinterestedly, taking in the ink stains on her blouse with mild amusement. _Clumsy like always._

‘She…She had a gun with her.’ She revealed, remembering the look on Grace's face after she had emerged from the narrow alley. She had been coming back from school on her bicycle, and Grace had been there. Surprisingly, Eloise hadn't been scared, and had brushed off the occurrence. Maybe because she didn't want to involve herself, but mostly to spite Tommy. She had avoided him after the 'kiss' and he hadn't bothered her either. But she had seen something today which had broken her self-imposed neglect of Thomas Shelby. Who had just snorted dismissively in her direction.

‘I am not lying.’ She said emphatically. 

‘Did you see 'er use the gun?’ He asked slowly. 

‘No, but that isn’t to say she-’

‘There are plenty of woman in Sparkbrook, Eloise. It could be a mistake.’ He said in kind condescension. 

‘At least hear me out. I also-'

‘Eloise, if this is about what happened in the stables,' He began gently. 

She stiffened but didn’t interrupt him, waiting for him to elaborate. But he extracted a pen from his coat instead and asked, ‘Do you want to bet on a horse? Did you know we're going to the races tomorrow?' 

She shook her head once. ‘Finish what you were saying.’ 

He looked at her for a moment too long, silently laughing at her. ‘Forget it ever happened. All right?’ 

She give a short laugh. ‘Trust me, I don’t even want to think about it. But you were the one who kissed me, that day and four years back. I don’t remember asking for it both the times.’

His expression didn't change at the mention of their past kiss and he furrowed his brows as he said, 'I remember you being as, if not more willing as I was.' 

'Oh, God.' She whispered, no longer vindictive. But she recovered soon and said harshly, her voice rising with every word, 'Why do you always treat me like I'm nothing? I know I kissed you back. I know George left me, but that doesn't mean anyone can use me like that. I am not some bloody whore!'

He ignored that she had taken his name and focussed on the other half of her sentence. 'Did someone-'

She gave a scornful laugh at his attempt at solicitude. 'Just forget that we were friends once, Tommy. I don't want to see you ever again.' She stated and left his office, her slam making the door rattle. 

Tommy looked down at the speck of chalk dust on his table as he mulled over what had happened. She had made countless threats over the past years, and when time came, she cooled down and backed off of them. But something about this new threat made Tommy kick the leg of his table in anger...and a pinch of regret. 

***

Eloise _20,_ Tommy _24_

Eloise was returning from school and the creak of her bicycle was the only sound accompanying her when she saw Tommy, walking on the cobblestones with his head bent and hands in his pockets.

A sad smile formed on her lips. He had changed after Greta’s death, no longer laughing or fooling around. He had changed so much that he had enlisted in the Yeomanry right after her death and was supposed to leave for France any moment. Her own friend George had decided to enlist and was presently waiting for her at the cut, no doubt ready with another war poem. 

But Tommy's sadness drew her and she rode in his direction instead. When he took no notice of her presence, she said quietly from beside him, ‘Hello, Tommy.’ 

‘Hello.’ He replied with a polite nod but didn’t start a conversation, he barely even looked at her.

‘How are you?’ She asked timidly.

‘Alright.’

‘Do you mind if I walk with you?’ She asked redundantly, for she was already accompanying him.

‘No.’

‘Polly said you’re leaving for France.’

He nodded. ‘I am.’

‘When?’

‘A week from now.’

She quieted down, unable to think of anything else to say and groped for a topic to talk about. She brightened up suddenly as she remembered an exciting news. 

‘Do you know Mrs Changretta is thinking of leaving school?’ She almost yelled in excitement. 

A ghost of his smile appeared. ‘I didn’t.’ 

‘She says she’s had enough of kids for a lifetime. The only kids she wants to see now are her grandkids.’ She finished with a loud laugh, pleased with her attempt at joke.

He tried to laugh, maybe because she was, but it came out hollow compared to her chortle. When he finally looked at her, she sobered from her inelegant laugh and asked, ‘Do you remember the time when she came to your house to complain?’

‘I don’t remember.’ He murmured but stopped walking, and looked at her with a strange expression. 

She said dismissively, ‘Oh, well it was a decade-’

But her words were cut short when his mouth came crashing down hers, taking her by surprise. They were outside in the streets, and while there wasn't anyone around, they were very well visible from the watchful windows, but he showed no sign of hesitation. He kissed her with desperation, forcing her shocked form to respond and kiss him back. As he cupped her face, she made no attempt to pull back either, finding an odd warmth in the kiss. 

She gingerly reached to touch his shirtsleeves, but he pulled away suddenly at that moment, leaving her confused and a little worried. He was breathless, his eyes hooded and looking at her with confusion, as if he didn’t know who she was. As if she had forced herself on him.

‘I am sorry’ were the last words she muttered before hurrying away on the pedal cycle.

Afterwards at the cut, George told her he loved her and wanted her to wait for him when he came back. She agreed without hesitation and decided to keep Tommy's kiss locked away forever. She knew it was for the best. George was good and nice and while Tommy was a wonderful person, she knew he hadn't been thinking about her when he took away her first kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! Please share your thoughts and feedback in the comments. I am so excited to write about Tommy's POV and also about George.   
> I'll upload soon <3


	7. revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eloise decides to give Tommy a taste of his own medicine, and Tommy decides to let her go for good.

“I do not know that she revenged it.”

Villette

Eloise saw the bare minimum of Tommy for the next few months, and he stopped bothering her too. Maybe because he felt guilty, but she would bet her entire salary that his ‘disregard’ for her had more to do with Grace Burgess. She had seen them leave for Cheltenham the very next day after she had told, or rather tried to tell Tommy about the barmaid’s secret activities. Eloise had seen her at the museum, not a place one would expect a barmaid to be at, and Eloise had stayed to watch. Her eyes had bulged out when she saw Campbell arrive a while later, and while she wasn't certain about their supposed allegiance, she knew there was something fishy. If only Tommy had heard her out. 

She had initially guessed his disinterest with her information had more to do with disbelief, but as she watched them leave together, she was certain that Tommy was too captivated by Grace to distrust her. And for the first time in a while, she felt an emotion called malice curve on her lips.

Thomas Shelby, who treated women like disposable objects was falling for an enemy, and she was buying front-row tickets for the show.

‘Did you tell him about her?’ Bianca asked her at the Garrison when Hugh had gone to get drinks for them. 

‘He didn’t believe me.’ She said as nonchalantly as she could; his outright denial still hurt. 

‘Strange.’

‘Not so strange when you look at that.’ She nodded at the barmaid, who was presently chatting with Tommy, who was smiling like the fool he was.

‘Is he falling for her?’

‘I hope he is.’ Eloise smiled. 

‘And are you sure you want to see him fall?’ She asked, and Eloise was quite confused at her cautiousness. 

‘He’s been an arse ever since he got back, it is time he gets a taste of his own medicine.’

'Be careful, Eloise. He won't forgive you if he finds out.' She said quietly. 

'I don't think I care anymore.' 

'Don't care about what?' Hugh asked. 

'Our wedding. She says she won't wear a dress, Hugh.' Bianca frowned, easily sidestepping the actual topic. 

'Why?' 

'She's afraid she'll look prettier than me.' 

‘You look good, Eloise. But nothing like Grace.’ He said plainly. 

Eloise chuckled at his guileless form and asked Bianca, 'Are you sure you want to marry him?' 

'God's will.' She said with a fond smile in his direction. 

‘Well, Hugh, the thing is, I don’t want to look like Grace.’ She said slowly, as if he were a kid. 

‘If you did, Tommy would be circling around you.’

She laughed loudly, and sobered when several pair of eyes glared at her. ‘Thank God I don’t look like her. Who wants a swindler around them?’

They both looked at each other with raised brows. 

‘He _is_ a swindler. Fucking bookmaker.’ Eloise muttered. 

‘I thought you were friends.’ Hugh said, bemused. 

'We were. But now he is nothing but a spiteful, savage and the most detestably-'

'I think that's enough for tonight, Eloise.' 

All three of them looked and found Polly Gray standing next to their booth, her face clear of any emotion, if she was feeling any that is. 

'Hello, Mrs Gray.' Bianca greeted timidly. 

'Bianca.' She nodded. 

'I was just telling Eloise about how she and Tommy were-'

'I think we all know what she was saying.' 

'Yeah.' 

'Why don't you come over tomorrow for dinner, Ellie?'

'I'm sorry, Polly. But I have some work.' Eloise answered finally. 

'There was a time when you never refused me.' 

'Times have changed.' She said with a wry smile. 

'Come in the afternoon then. Your dear friend won't be home.' She ordered and left for their private parlour. 

'Guess I still can't say no to you.' Eloise told her receding form. 

***

Tommy waited for David Beckett in the isolated garage that night, a ritual he had followed for the past year. Their arrangement was simple; Tommy paid him some amount every month and he took it without any qualms. While Tommy didn't appreciate his slothfulness, he was the only one who knew David Beckett's secret. Sometimes, he wondered if he would collapse from the burden of secrets he had to keep, be it about Grace's true story or Eloise's first drink at fourteen. 

He hadn’t talked to Eloise since the day before Cheltenham, mostly because he was busy in other things and also because he didn't want to face her. Eloise had been a good friend, but she couldn't be anything more than his friend. That kiss had happened in a moment of weakness, and he didn't ever want to think about it, lest he do something he would regret for life. She was a fucking schoolteacher, and while he wasn't proud of making any comparisons, she wasn't anything like Grace. She was...Eloise, the girl who one day wanted to become a washerwoman and a singer the other. She was good, and definitely not for him. And as far as her 'intuitions' about Grace were concerned, he knew they were baseless. If his most trusted sources couldn't find dirt on her, Eloise's observations hardly held weight. 

'Did you have a row with 'er again?' David asked as soon as he found shelter under the roof. 

'How did you know?' Tommy asked, wondering if he was back on speaking terms with his favourite kid. Some days, he was glad he didn't talk to her; she needed to know she had made a mistake by falling for that bastard. 

'She is reading that damned book again.' He said in disdain. 

Tommy sighed, remembering her obsession with the book with a French name. 

'Don't worry, she'll forgive you.'

'It's better if she doesn't.' He deadpanned. 

David nodded in understanding. 

'Freddie's back in town.' Tommy continued with the important stuff. 

'I 'eard. That copper will be the death of us.' He muttered bitterly. 

'You'll need to be more careful.' 

He nodded again. 'I've decided to leave town for a while. The others won't notice, but Eloise is going to turn the place upside down.' 

'She went to see the copper.' He told David for the sixth time since his arrest, trying not to grit his teeth. 

'I know. Look after her, and yourself.' And then he left. 

Tommy 12, Eloise 8

Tommy was sitting astride on the horse when he saw the girl with two braids skip towards the yard. He had known her for many years, but he still wasn't on friendly terms with her. Firstly because she was rich, and secondly because of her complete lack of conceit about it. She spent more time in Watery Lane than at her own house, and clung to his mother like she was her own. She was too weak and kind to live in Birmingham, just yesterday he had seen her give a penny to the shoe-shiner, for no particular reason except that his name was also David. Tommy kept his distance from her, and in return she avoided him but they were always forced together. 

'Why are you here?' He asked sharply. 

'Your Mum said it's alright if I come too.' She muttered without looking at him. 

He shrugged, as if allowing her to visit his uncle's yard. 

'Why aren't you wearing shoes?' She asked. 

'Because I don't like 'em.' He said blankly. It was the truth though, he would rather walk barefoot than take charity from the Italians. 

'You'll catch a cold.' 

'Did you come 'ere for talking?' He asked harshly. 

'No. I want to ride horsey.' She almost sounded cheerful despite his rude tone. 

He scoffed. 'It's called a fucking horse.' 

She pursed her lips as if she wanted to say something more but shouldn't. Satisfied, he said, 'Come, I'll help you up.' 

Her eyes widened. 'You will?' 

'Yeah. Give me your 'and.' He put forward his hand for her to take. 

She wiped it on her dress before extending it in his direction. 

'Not like this. You'll have to keep your feet in the saddle.' 

'I can't reach it.' She said. 

'Try.' 

He had to give her credit for trying, but her short stature made it impossible for her to climb up. After close to fifteen attempts, she sighed, 'I am sorry.' 

He grinned at her tired form. 'It's alright.' 

She smiled back at him and he felt a strange flutter in his heart. It was like a very brutal tickle, which made him want to clutch at his chest. 

'Tommy! Where are you?' 

'Up here, Arthur.' He yelled back and Arthur strode towards them. He stopped in front of Eloise and jerked his chin to greet her. 'Ellie.'

'Hello.' She replied. 

He didn't like that Arthur got the same smile without even working for it.

'Dad is asking for you, Tommy. Go.' 

'I don't want to.' He shrugged but still got down from the horse; Arthur didn't deserve rudeness. 

'You know what 'e'll do if you don't.' 

'I still won't.' 

Arthur left with a pat on the horse’s hide and a shake of his head, well used to Tommy's disregard for their Dad.

'Why aren't you going?' Eloise asked quietly. He looked down at her and noticed her scalp was so painfully stretched by the braids, he could fit his finger in between the partition. 

'I don't like 'im.' He said truthfully, partly because she couldn't do anything about it and partly because he was too troubled by her lack of reaction to the pain she must be feeling. 

'Your Dad?' She asked.

'Yeah.' He nodded. 

'Why?' 

'Didn't anyone tell you it's rude to ask questions?'

'I am sorry.' She looked down at her own shoe-covered feet. 

‘Why aren’t you at home?’

‘There is no one at home.’ She said it as if it was her fault her parents didn't care for her. 

‘Why?’

‘Dad is at work, and Mum has taken my sister to the fair.' 

'Why didn't you go?'

She looked at him with a strange expression, 'It is rude to ask questions.' 

He was a kid himself then, but he had understood that her condition wasn't much different from his own, despite the disparity between them. They weren't alone, but they were neglected by everyone. And on that very day, he made it a point to watch out for her everytime. 

'I'll help you ride the horse. Would you like that?' He asked her. 

PRESENT

Eloise fulfilled her promise of visiting Watery Lane the next day, after making sure Tommy wouldn't be anywhere close to the lane. But he was mostly at the Garrison these days, no doubt flirting with the beautiful Grace. 

_'Are you jealous, Eloise?'_ An unfamiliar voice asked her. 

_'No. Never. Tommy isn't all that desirable. He isn't even tall.'_ She chided herself as she entered the house. 

'Polly isn't here?' She asked Arthur, surprised to find him at home instead of the betting shop. 

'She's at the church. Why are you here?' He asked as he got up from the chair. 

'I brought these clothes, and also because she asked me to come.' She said defensively as she kept Polly's clothes on the table. 

He nodded. 'I 'eard you punished Finn. At your home.' He added pointedly. 

'It wasn't a punishment. I only asked him to stand in the corner.' She said casually as she picked up the apple from the basket. 

'Mrs Changretta used to give us cakes.’ He said in dismay. 

‘And look what happened.’ She gave him a sweet smile before taking a bite of the fruit. 

Arthur chuckled. ‘I like you, Ellie. But I’ll let Tommy die by your hands.’

‘I’m not interested in Tommy’s blood.’ She said with a slight sneer. 

‘Yeah, Arthur. She’s interested in Tommy’s heart.’ John joined in at that moment, and she rolled her eyes, then remembered something important. 

‘John.’ She kept the apple aside and crossed her arms to peruse him. 

'Good luck, Johnboy.' Arthur chuckled with a pat on John's back before leaving. 

‘How are you, Ellie?’ He asked with a cocky smirk. 

‘I am fine. But your kids are not.’

His face grew sombre and Eloise was almost sad. Almost.

‘I know. Ever since Martha…’

‘I understand.’ She cut him off insensitively. ‘But they need watching over. Your Paul threw a book at the headmaster today, and it isn’t first time it’s happened.’

‘Tell your fucking headmaster to send us the bill.’

‘You’ll deal with him. But what about them? Aren’t you worried in the least?’

‘Of course I fuckin' am!’ He almost roared and she steeled herself to stay where she was. 

‘Then start paying attention. I know it’s difficult to raise four kids alone, but you shouldn’t give up on them.’

The look of sympathy on John’s face told her she had made a mistake. That was the reason she wasn’t soft on the students like other teachers. One slip and she was ‘poor Eloise’, whose mother left her when she was five, whose lover left her alone at the cut, whose sole aim in life was to be left alone. 

‘They have been given detention. Don’t forget to send them.’ She said and began to leave for the door. 

‘Wait, Ellie!’

She turned slowly and asked, ‘What?’

'You know my kids aren't any better than we were.' 

'I know.' She nodded. 

‘You are good with my kids, and you keep them in check.’

‘What is it, John?’ She asked impatiently. 

‘Keep them with you for some time.’

‘What? I am not supposed to-’

‘I’ll give you money.’ 

She shook her head, _the Shelbys and their money_. ‘It isn’t about money, I can’t take care of them forever. You’ll have to pull your socks up.’

‘I'll pay more than that bloody school of yours.' 

‘If you have so much money, then get them a governess. Or a wife for yourself. That will be much cheaper.’

She left after unknowingly giving John a wonderful idea. 

***

_Eloise_ 16, _Tommy_ 20

Eloise woke up to the sound of stones being pelted on her bedroom window. Her sisters and stepmother were in Worcestershire for the weekend, visiting Violet's family and she was alone with her father, who was probably sleeping like the dead right now. She groaned as she got up to look at the reason behind her irritation and sighed at the familiar form standing below her window. 

'Do you know what time it is?' She asked through sleep-heavy eyes as she opened the window.

'Don't have a watch.' He said innocently. 

'We have a door, you know. Regular people enter from there.' She continued listing his faults. 

'What's the fun in that?' 

'Who is it, Eloise?' Her father asked from outside her door in worry. 

'It's Thomas Shelby. He's throwing rocks at our window, Dad.' She complained. 

'Tell him to come up.'

She shook her head in disdain and walked away from the window to open the door. 

'Don't you have anything else to do, Tommy?' She sneered when he was finally upstairs. 

'Just came back from the country, and I'm fucking starving.' He said as he lounged on the sofa. 

Her face softened. 'Wait here. I'll make a sandwich.' 

He followed her inside the kitchen instead, just like she had expected. 

Leaning against the counter, he said, 'I 'eard you've started sewing clothes. New hobby?'

She spread the jam on the bread and said, 'Violet needs help, she can't do everything on her own.' 

'What about your matric?' He asked, as if he were a concerned older brother, a designation he didn't want at all, because he already had three siblings to look after and not because Eloise was looking very pretty tonight. _Must be the hair._

'I'll do that too. It isn't that difficult.' She said lightly. 

He looked at the soft curls tied carelessly with a ribbon. 'Hmm.'

She looked up. 'What?' 

'I didn't say anything.' He said and picked up the sandwich. 

She put the knife down and asked, 'Why do you come when Violet is not at home?' 

'Because I don't like 'er.' He said flatly. 

'Why?' 

'No reason.' He shrugged.

'There must be some reason. Did she sew flowers on your shirt?' She asked suspiciously. 

'Yeah, she did.' He agreed and took a huge bite of the sandwich. 

'How is the sandwich?'

'Good.' He said through a full mouth. 

'Dad must trust you a lot to leave me alone with you.' She said loftily as she jumped up to sit on the tabletop. 

He stopped before taking another bite and asked, 'Are you afraid of the Peaky Blinders, Eloise?' 

'I am a bit scared of Scudboat. He looks like a bloody butcher.' She confessed. 

'Yeah? Anyone else?' He asked, shifting closer. 

She pouted in contemplation. 'Arthur, maybe. But I know he won't hurt me.' 

'What about his brother?'

'John? He's too young.' She said dismissively. 

He went back to his sandwich. 

'And you are...'

'What?' He asked in mild irritation. 

'You are adorable.' 

'Fuck off.' He muttered, but a smile crept on his face. 

She laughed, the laughter which came down like a thunderstorm and blew him away. 

'Keep it down, kids.' A grumble echoed from the other room. 

'Will you come to the yard tomorrow?' He asked after he had polished off the sandwich. 

'Why?' 

'There's a new horse, thought you would like it.' 

'I don't know. Violet asked me to do some stitching.' She said glumly. Which actually meant Violet had politely ordered her to do it before she came back. 

'Alright.' He nodded.

'I am sorry.' 

'No need. I understand.' 

'That's why you're adorable.' She smiled. 

He smiled back. 'Thank you for the food. I'll leave now.' 

'I'll try to come.' She told his back as he opened the door. 

'I know.' He replied without turning around. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for reading!!Please share your thoughts and feedback.  
> ps. I posted two flashbacks to show the difference in Eloise before and after knowing Tommy


	8. Indecision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy is unable to understand the nature of his relationship with Eloise as he proceeds towards a newer one.

_“She partly understood me, but as I did not at all understand her....we achieved little progress.''_

\- Villette, Charlotte Bronte

Eloise was lugging the bag of weekly supplies in her hands when she noticed someone inside the Shelby garage. 

‘Hello, Miss Beckett.’ Finn greeted with a beam. 

She raised her brows at his braveness. ‘Finn. What are you doing?’

‘I’m pretending to be Tommy.’ He giggled. 

She wanted to scoff and sneer, but held it in for Finn’s sake. Mischiefs aside, he was a good kid and while Tommy wasn't the perfect role model, he was the best Finn could get. Walking closer, she said, ‘Good luck. I hope you're coming-'

She was cut off brutally when a hard push to her side made her stumble and almost fall on the ground. She cursed sharply under her breath before turning around to look at her attacker, only to find a panting Tommy Shelby.

‘Finn! Stay exactly where you are.’ He ordered, heedless to the casualty of his urgency, which was a very much piqued Eloise. 

‘What is wrong with you?’ Her shriek managed to catch his attention and he cast a harried look in her direction, all the while inching closer towards Finn.

‘Get the fuck away from ‘ere, Eloise.’ He said scathingly, and she felt the burn of his scathe behind her eyes. He had never talked to her like that, and it was a bit unexpected, considering he was the one who was always bothering her.

‘You’re mad, Tommy.’ She said against the foolish lump in her throat before walking away, but he wasn’t interested in her remarks.

‘Which door did you open to come in, Finn?’ She heard him ask Finn frantically but kept walking, trying not to think much about it. The Shelbys were always upto something, and she was no longer a part of their inner circle. Not that she wanted to associate with them, but they, and by they she meant Tommy could at least be decent if not cordial. Lost in her thoughts, she kept walking home when Tommy's loud bellow shook her. Less than two steps later, she heard a loud explosion which ran through her entire body and she crouched down in reflex, shielding her eyes with her hands, the bag of supplies forgotten.   
  
When all seemed a bit calmer, she slowly opened her eyes and looked down to herself to check if anything important was missing. _All well then_ , she thought gravely before her gaze fell on the tomatoes rolling on the street. 

'Oh dear.' She lamented and was beginning to grab them when two pairs of leather shoes appeared before her, one small and shaking, the other big and trying not to shake. 

‘Are you alright?’ He asked tonelessly and offered her his hand.

She ignored it as she got up from the dirty ground by herself but still nodded in answer, ‘Yeah. Are you?’ She asked, despite wishing perdition on him a few moments back.

_At night, we sleep to the sound of shells exploding._

He nodded back, as if he had read her mind, ‘I am.’

She let go of the breath she was unconsciously holding and looked down at the teary-eyed Finn. Adding more than necessary asperity in her words, she told him, ‘I better see you at school tomorrow, Finn.’

***

_Tommy 14, Eloise 10_

Tommy was sitting on the bank of the canal, his legs dangling down and hands resting on the rough concrete, away from the noise and dirt of the city when Eloise's yell reverberated in the entire cut.

'Tommy!' He looked up and saw her running towards him. 

'What is it, Eloise?' He asked, annoyed at having his moment of contemplation broken. 

'Look what I found!' She yelled even more loudly and a dirty ball of fur invaded his line of sight. 

He moved away in disgust and ordered, 'Keep that thing away from me.' 

'It's not a thing. It's a sweet pup.' She looked wounded on that _sweet pup's_ behalf and rubbed his mangy hide. 

He sighed, and went back to throwing stones in the river. 

'Look at him please.' She pleaded, and he complied finally, then wished he hadn't, for it was the ugliest animal he had ever seen. Along with the majority of its hide, it was also missing an eye. Its teeth were fang-like and presently bared in Tommy's direction. 

'He's alright.' He muttered and looked away. 

'Isn't he?' She beamed, then in a coddling voice, told the dog, 'Tommy says you're alright, love.' 

'Love?' He sneered. 

'I haven't thought of a name. Do you have any?' She asked, and placed the dog just above his lap. 

'Keep it fuckin' away!' He shouted and got up abruptly. 

'Why are you angry, Tom?' She asked in innocent concern. 

'I'm not.' He bit out. 

'Don't lie.' She ordered. 

He wasn't lying, because he wasn't angry. He was furious at the good-hearted Eloise, who had gifted him a set of new shoes for Christmas. As if he were a beggar from Garrison Lane. As if he were not her equal. 

'I won't.' She jutted out her stubborn chin. 'Why are you angry?' She asked again, unaware of the fire inside him. 

''Cause you're fuckin' mad.' 

Her lower lip trembled. 'What did I do?' 

'This is what you do, Eloise. You cry and everyone 'as to forgive you. It doesn't work like that for me.'

He didn't know why he said that, why he unladed his troubles on her when he never said anything to his family. But it felt strangely good, good _and_ lighter, only she felt something entirely different, and dreadfully, it was pity. The pity she felt for the dog, she also felt for the poor Gypsy boy of Watery Lane.

'I'm sorry.'

'Why?' He impelled her to answer, furious at her apology. 

'I don't know.' She whispered. 

'Get out of 'ere, Eloise.' He said cuttingly, and on cue, tears rolled down her cheeks. 

'I will tell Polly about this.' She threatened weakly. 

'Please.' He answered, looking ahead at the cut.

'And your Mum, too.' She sobbed. 

'Fine.' He shrugged. 

'And Ar-'

'Tell everyone, and cry, because that's all you can do.' 

'You're bad.' She shouted amidst the wave of tears and left the cut, leaving behind her _sweet pup_ , which threw him an angry snarl. 

That night, a stone was pelted on Eloise's window. She opened it slowly and hesitatingly, probably afraid of finding the scary men Tommy had warned her about. Her eyes widened when she looked down, and she checked around the street; all aware about propriety, even as a ten year old. 

'Come down.' He ordered. 

_No._ She shook her head, the mutinous flat line of her mouth at odds with her wide-eyed look. 

'Come down, or I will.' 

_Go._ She mouthed, and began to shut the window in anger. 

'I will come up, Eloise.' His voice was louder, more forceful. 

_Wait._ She gestured impatiently with her hands. 

She came down after some time, in a pale pink nightdress and slippers held together by dainty ribbons. Her eyes were swollen, but it could be from waking up from broken sleep. He didn't want the burden of her tears on him, even though inwardly he knew he was the one at fault. 

'Come with me.' He offered her his hand. 

'Where?' She asked, keeping her arms behind her back. He reached for her hand nonetheless and told her, 'To the yard.' 

'Why?'

Growing impatient by her questions, he said finally, 'Shut up.' 

'You are very bad.' She muttered in a low voice so he couldn't hear, but his chuckle told her he had. Still, she didn't refuse to come with him, nor did she remove her hand from his grasp. On the way, no one spoke, Tommy occupied with walking faster, and Eloise busy in casting harried glances around the street. 

When they were finally at their destination, he showed her towards a spot near the stables, where the evidence of his labour stood.

She looked down at the small wooden house in question. 'What is this?' 

'It's a kennel.' He told her proudly. 

'For?' She asked dubiously. 

He tried not to sneer at her daftness. 'For you, Eloise.' He said patiently. 

She looked at him in confusion. 

'For that fuckin' dog.' He said testily. 

'You made it?' She asked, a nervous emotion bubbling inside her. 

'Yeah.' He said with a lofty grin. Arthur and Uncle Charlie had helped, but she didn't need to know that. 

'It's very nice.'

He nodded, but her polite response irked him. Making the kennel hadn't been an easy task; he had several cuts on his palms and fingers, and if he hadn't moved his hand a second before, he might have had his thumb nailed to the wood. But all Eloise had said was 'nice', just like she had told his Aunt Polly about the half-burnt bread she had served for breakfast yesterday. Eloise was becoming a regular on their breakfast table, he realised when suddenly two small arms wrapped themselves around his stomach. 

'You're my only friend, Tommy. Please don't be angry with me.' She sniffled. 

He forced his feet to stay on the ground, but didn't touch her to steady himself. 'Eloise...' He said warily. 

Her hold tightened. 'I am sorry, I will never hurt you again.' 

'You didn't hurt me.' He said lightly, but it was lie and she understood it. Looking up, she asked timidly, 'Do you forgive me?'

'Yeah.' He nodded. 

She gave him a watery smile. 'Thank you.' 

'Yeah.' He repeated, feeling out-of-sorts by the amount of trust and one nameless emotion in her eyes. That nameless emotion had fucked him up, and till today, he didn't know what Eloise felt or had felt for him. Now, as he watched Billy Kimber pass Eloise on the street, he was on guard in a moment.

 _What the fuck was she doing here?_ And Kimber would lose his eyes if he even dared to look at his...At the women of his town. But his wariness was wasted, because Kimber didn’t even spare a glance in plain Eloise’s direction. Little did that tart know that Eloise could make anyone fall for her with the barest of her smile. Not that he was any experienced; he just knew. But presently, he was more than content with Grace Burgess and the license in his hands.

 _Grace_. Her name put a sudden smile on his face. She was everything he could ask for in a woman, and he was surprised he didn't realise it sooner. But maybe he had realised it, and hadn't wanted to admit it, for reasons which were best left untouched and forgotten. 

***

There was a skip in Eloise's feet as she walked closer to Lizzie Stark's lodgings. Not a place suitable for a respectable girl, but Eloise was no longer a girl, and respectability was something she had lost at the cut one year ago. On the way, she was reminded of the conversation she had had with her sister when a new order, that too of a wedding dress had arrived in their house.

‘John is marrying Lizzie?’ Bianca's eyes had widened to the size of saucers. 

‘Yeah, I just heard about it myself, and I am not as surprised as I thought I would be.’

‘And why is that, Ellie?’ She asked through narrowed eyes. 

Eloise gave a smile, and Bianca was amazed at her sister's satisfaction, that too at someone else's behalf. ‘I might have something to do with it.’

Bianca leaned closer, her ears pricked. ‘When did the stoic Eloise became cupid?’

‘I am not unfeeling.’ She had the gall to sound offended. 

‘I know.’ Bianca brushed it off and asked the important question, ‘Tell me how you fixed the match?’

‘Just told John how unruly his kids were, and suggested he get himself a wife. Didn’t know he would be so quick.’ She said, trying to keep her joy under wraps. 

Bianca reclined back on the sofa and mused, ‘Lizzie Stark. She was always looking at Tommy with those adoring green eyes, I didn’t think it was John she liked.’

Eloise's face darkened at his mention, or maybe at one old memory and she said casually, ‘Doesn’t matter as long as we’re getting work. She asked me to sew a dress for her.’

‘Well, well, another order from a Shelby. Mum is going to flip again.’ Bianca said with a mischievous smile. 

‘She’s not a Shelby yet.’ Eloise pointed out. 

‘But she’s someone even worse, isn’t she?’

‘Anything is better than being a Shelby.’

And that was the end of the discussion. Now, as she knocked on the door of Lizzie's downtrodden lodgings, she ignored that once Lizzie had seen her with Tommy, and... 

‘Ellie? What are you doing here?’ Lizzie's sharp question brought Eloise out of her reverie.

Eloise gave her a wide beam, her excitement shrouding Lizzie's red-rimmed eyes. ‘You didn’t come to take your dress. I thought I would give it to you.’

‘I can’t take it.’ Lizzie shook her head and turned away from the dress, from Eloise. But Eloise took that as an invitation to come inside. 

Closing the door behind her, she asked, ‘Why?’

‘I am not gettin' married, Ellie.’ She said quietly, sadly. 

Eloise touched her face and asked softly, as if Lizzie was the young girl at school who never spoke, ‘What happened, sweetie?’

‘Tis all my fault.’

‘Did you have a row with John?’ 

‘It was fuckin' Tommy!’ Lizzie cried suddenly. 

‘Tommy? Lizzie, are you still…?’ Eloise reined in her gasp but Lizzie had already seen the look on her face. Her countenance turned bitter and she moved away from Eloise's hold.

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ She forced out, and silently ordered Eloise out too. 

But Eloise wasn't one leave to troubled souls. ‘Didn’t you tell John?’ She asked in her gentle voice but the slight note of judgement wasn't hidden.

Lizzie looked at her with bared-faced scorn to say, ‘You are one to talk, Ellie, when the whole Small Heath knows what you did. Running away with George days after you were seen with Tommy at the cut.’

‘Tommy and I weren’t…’ She began hastily but Lizzie cut her off brutally.

‘You were _always_ with 'im, Eloise. You never left 'im alone, even when he was with Greta.’ Lizzie threw back sharply. 

Eloise had to pause for a moment to understand the sudden change in the situation. Tommy was the enemy one second ago, but now she was feeling the burden of Lizzie’s hatred. And she didn’t appreciate it all. Tommy Shelby was ruining her entire life, and she wasn't going to stand back and watch anymore. 

****

‘Thomas, can I talk to you for a moment?’

Tommy looked at the door with a start, surprised to find Eloise standing there, especially after their last meeting, or the one before that. He was also surprised because it was the first time he was seeing both Eloise and Grace in one room. Eloise, with her tightly pinned-back dark curls and Grace with her fair hair falling around her face. Eloise, whose dull clothes had chalk dust and ink stains, and Grace, who wore the most colourful clothes he had ever seen in Small Heath. Eloise, who rarely smiled, and Grace, who was the only one who smiled. 

‘Eloise? Come on in.’ He gestured at her with his glass.

‘No, I would rather we talk outside.’ She instructed with a pointed look in Grace's direction, crudely telling him she didn't trust her.

‘Go wait in the back.’ He told Grace, whose pursed lips told him she didn't appreciate that order at all. But something told him Eloise was troubled, and he had a stupid promise to keep.

‘Why did you do that?’ She asked when they both were alone, her voice barely a note higher but still authoritative.

He looked at her in impatient question, waiting for her to elaborate.

‘Why did you break their marriage?’ She demanded. 

Scoffing a little, he turned away to take a sip from the glass. ’What fucking marriage?’

‘John and Lizzie’s.’ She said, exasperated by his dawdling. 

He gave a derisive snort. _A marriage which wasn't worth eight fucking pounds._

‘Sex doesn’t mean anything, Tommy.’ She told him, the informed teacher that she was. 

‘Doesn’t it, Eloise?’ He asked impassively without looking at her, even though his jaw ticked at the idea of Eloise having sex with anyone. Ever. 

But she didn’t lose her footing at his crude words. Walking towards him, she forced him to look at her and said earnestly, ‘Lizzie is all alone, she needs the money or the pimp won’t let her live. I don’t know much, but I know her love for John and his kids is sincere, and you took away her chance at happiness.’

She broke off suddenly, and he looked into her watery eyes with scorn.

‘It’s not about you, Eloise.’ He said in kind contempt, clenching his fist lest he touch her cheek.

She sobered at that and retorted, ‘Shut up. It’s not about you either. Why do you have to meddle in everything?’

He sighed and said slowly, ‘John is his own man, I don’t need to-’

She interrupted him curtly, ‘I know you’re not going to accept your fault, but remember you broke someone’s heart. God forbid it ever happen to you.’ She finished after throwing a look at the backroom, where Grace was.

The guilt he felt was uncalled for and he said flatly, ‘You don’t know anything.’

She couldn’t hold onto the jibe in her words, and her words were pitiful and soft as she said, ‘I know everything, Tommy. I know you’re hurting and while I understand your pain, it doesn’t give you an excuse to impose your hurt on others.’

He gritted his teeth but kept the coolness in his words as he said, ‘For someone who doesn't want to ' _ever see me_ ', you're a little too keen on talking to me, Eloise.' He made a point of imitating her voice, and fire burned in her eyes. 

‘Go to blazes.’ She vexed and turned to leave, pushing the doors with all her might. 

Grace re-emerged even before the door slammed back in place, making him wonder for a short while if she was actually in the back.

‘Who is she?’ She asked softly. Everything about her was soft, from her voice to appearance. She wasn't damaged, despite what she had supposedly been through.

‘She was a friend.’ He told her and gestured at her to fill the glass.

 _Friend_. It was such a weak word to describe what Eloise had been for him. But they were never more than friends, and always less than lovers. As kids, they were like broken pieces of a mirror; usable but disposable too. And now, they were strangers. At least he was, for Eloise was still the same, no matter how hard she tried to use stone in place of her beating heart. 

‘Was?’ She asked. 

‘Yeah.’ He nodded as he took a huge gulp of the drink. Sometimes, she asked too many questions for his liking but talking about Eloise with her felt good. Maybe she could tell him what was wrong with them.

'I thought her name was Ellie.' 

'She doesn't like that name.' He didn't elaborate which name. 

‘Did she break your heart?’ She asked casually as she wiped the glasses, but the note of worry wasn’t missed by him. Strangely, it pleased him. He couldn’t be feeling all that emotion by himself.

‘No.’ He said shortly. 

_She never wanted my heart._

Grace kept looking at him in question, but he wasn’t keen on answering anymore, lost in a distant memory. 

***

Tommy _19,_ Eloise _15_

'Tommy, I am telling you, all the trouble is in my name.' Eloise told him in a matter-of-fact voice.

He nodded, busily cleaning the horse's hide as she droned on about her lack of prospects as a singer. He wasn't listening at all, but he was hearing her voice; which was sweet and salty at the same time. He would never tell her, but sometimes, he just wanted to hear her talk and talk about everything. But alas, he wasn't so articulate with his thoughts, or maybe he was too articulate, and people ended up resenting him for his insolence. 

'Eee-Low-Eese.' She enunciated, and moaned, 'It's such a boring name, nothing fun like Ada or Bianca.' 

'I'm going back home for lunch. Keep a check on the 'orses.' He said as he wiped his hands with a faded cloth. 

' _Don't leave me now, my heart hasn't had its fill of you yet.'_ She sang, smiling her new, coy smile at him, not at all bothered by Curly and Charlie's startled expressions. 

He raised one brow at her, a lazy smirk spreading on his face. She chuckled artlessly, becoming the old Eloise again. The one who was still a kid, and not a woman. He liked the old one, because the new one was making his mind go in unfamiliar places; places which weren't suitable for "childhood" friends. Eloise was still a kid, he wasn't supposed to feel like that, and he knew David would kill him with his bare hands if he ever found out what went inside Tommy's head. 

'Laugh all you want, Tommy. One day, you'll come to listen to me at the Opera House.' She predicted as she got up from the haystacks, preparing to leave for Garrison Lane. 

'You can't sing opera.' He said flatly. 

She narrowed her eyes, and walked towards him, ready for battle. 'What do you know?'

He looked down at the ground for a moment, and then raised his head to say, 'I know you've stepped on 'orseshit.'

A very shrill, very outraged scream left her mouth, and as she danced around trying to wipe her feet, Tommy watched the songbirds fly away, probably petrified. 

She continued to rub her expensive shoes on the ground frantically, and Tommy swallowed his laugh to say, 'You can sing opera, Eloise.' 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Long time, no see. But my college reopened and it was hard to find time amidst room-cleaning and studying. I am back, but I don't know when I'll update next. Maybe tomorrow itself, maybe next week, but know that I missed you all very much. Stay safe and give your feedback. (Please do, it is a reprieve from the thick books I had forgotten about)


	9. Hot/Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eloise is shuttling between her feelings for Tommy, but one particular incidence finally seals the deal for her.

“He is dead, then?”

\- Villette

'After delivering the dresses, we've to go and get sewing thread and needles. Then, we'll go to the chemist and get Violet's medicines.'

Eloise was relaying the list of tasks to her sister, all the while counting the number of dresses with her eyes when suddenly Bianca stopped.

‘Why is Tommy Shelby dressed like that?’ She whisper-yelled in Eloise's ear, who looked up from the bag of dresses in mild irritation. 

‘Like what?’ She asked as she searched for him in the street, and found him walking beside his horse. Anger swelled inside her heart and she looked away.

 _Never see me again_. He was a fucking bastard for imitating her voice like that, and she hated that Grace had witnessed her humiliation by his hands. To protect herself from Tommy's taunts, she had even stopped going to the Garrison altogether, and just wallowed in a corner of her house, listening to Violet's grumbles about food scarcity. 

‘Like a fuckin’ gentleman.’ Bianca crowed, making a few people stop and look at her in disapproval. 

‘Bianca.’ Eloise chided. 

‘What, _Mum_?’ Bianca asked derisively, and teased Eloise, 'Don’t tell me he doesn't look good.' 

Eloise looked at him again. It was the same suit he had worn to Cheltenham, and that day too, from the window of her house, she had thought he looked handsome. 

‘He looks fine.’ she relented, her scowl dimming the words of praise. 

Bianca smirked, and began walking across the street, all the while pulling Eloise with her.

‘Where are we going?’ Her unsuspecting sister asked, but Bianca stopped only when they were standing right in front of the even more oblivious Shelby. 

‘Well, well, Tommy Shelby. Looking handsome today.’ 

Tommy looked up in surprise and his cool greeting was drowned in Bianca's yelp, which erupted after being pinched in the side by her appalled sister. 

‘What, Ellie? You said so yourself.’ Bianca replied, rubbing at her side roughly.

‘I never-’ She began, as a blush crept up her cheeks. 

‘Where are you going?’ Bianca asked Tommy, who hadn’t once taken his eyes off of Eloise. He looked disgruntled, but there was the barest of smiles playing on his lips, as if he were mocking Eloise. 

‘It’s John’s wedding day.’ He told Eloise, who narrowed her eyes at him and turned away. 

Bianca put her hands on her hips, and asked, ‘And why aren’t we invited? Did Eloise push in the cut again?'

She began to laugh her sparkling laugh at her own joke but it came to an abrupt halt when Tommy's eyes flashed, and Bianca took a step back. Meanwhile Eloise was wondering whether to kill her sister before or after she knew about John's sudden wedding. And to whom? Certainly not Lizzie, for she was still...doing business. 

‘I always wanted you to marry John, Ellie. But Tommy came in between.’ Bianca grumbled with a teasing smile. 

Tommy took a long suffering breath and said, ‘I’ll leave you both to-’ He didn't say it, but Eloise knew he wanted to say, 'talk shit and waste time.' 

'Let's go.' Eloise pulled her sister's arm, ready to take her away and give her an earful about manners. 

'Mrs Donovan! Eloise is bringing your order.' Bianca yelled at the woman standing outside her house, then turning towards Eloise, said, 'Go, Eloise. I'll come in a second.' 

It was all incentive Eloise needed, and she hurried off without sparing a glance in Tommy's direction, who was looking at Bianca in suspicion. 

The moment her sister was out of her sight, Bianca said in a quick, low voice, ‘Eloise wanted to know if you know where Dad is.'

Realisation dawned on his face, and while he wanted to tell the truth, all he did was shake his head, 'I don't.' 

'She isn't eating.' She said with a worried look in her sister's direction, who was haggling with Mrs Donovan over petty shillings. 

Tommy unwillingly joined her in her perusal of Eloise. He had noticed dark shadows under her eyes, and the faded blouse hadn't been this loose on her last month. But unlike every time, he hadn't been able to summon any sympathy for her. She did everything by her will, and he was growing tired of watching over her. 

'Please let us know if he visits you.' Bianca almost pleaded and he let out a grudging sigh, well aware of her tenacity and her concern for Eloise. 

'I will,' He said shortly and moved to leave for the Lees' residence, but couldn't himself from turning back to look at Eloise one last time. 

****

'Good.' Tommy told his younger brother, who seemed more than eager to blow off the steam after his rejection and continued to lead him towards the Lees' realm. 

‘Tommy.’ He said diffidently from behind. 

Tommy turned and asked slowly, not wanting to risk anything, ‘What’s wrong, John?’

‘I’ve decided to marry.’

Tommy looked at Arthur surreptitiously, who gave a small shrug before asking John, ‘Well, who is it this time?' 

‘Eloise.’

Even though he was taking very small steps, Tommy came to an abrupt halt at the revelation, and everyone behind him stopped too. But John was unfazed by their reaction as he declared the matters of his heart, ‘She keeps me kids in check, an' we all know she won’t be getting married anytime soon.’ 

Tommy gritted his teeth. ‘John…’

‘I don’t love her. But she’s good an' a bit pretty.’ He said, a cheeky smirk forming on his face. 

‘Ah! That smile.’ Arthur mused and Tommy wanted to cut him a smile. But he kept looking at John patiently, when all he wanted to do was smack him in the face.

‘Did you ask 'er?’ 

‘Not yet, but I will today. I reckon she’ll say yes. She 'as to.’ He shrugged, cocksure about her affirmation. For a second, Tommy was willing to give him that chance, just to watch him get rejected by the upper crust Eloise, who only liked rich men and thought men of Small Heath weren't worth her precious time. 

But the spite in his heart didn't run that deep, and all he said was, 'You won't ask 'er, because you're getting married today.' 

**

‘Ellie, wake up.’ 

‘Emma! Why aren’t you in bed?’ She asked as she got up with a start and rubbed her eyes. 

‘Come with us.’ It was Bianca, who looked sombre and solemn in her dark dress and cloak. 

‘What’s going on?’ She asked in trepidation, wondering if her nightmare about her father had come true. She hadn't been able to sleep properly ever since his absence had surpassed its usual course. And when she did sleep, she woke up wishing she never slept again.

‘We are going to see Ada’s baby.’ Emma revealed in hushed tones. 

'What baby? We don't even know where she lives.' Eloise moaned sleepily, already reaching for the sheets, but Bianca pulled them away. 

‘She is here, in Watery Lane.' She stressed.

'But Violet-' Eloise began with her final excuse but they cut her off. 

‘Please, Eloise.’ They both said impatiently. 

'Fine. Wait downstairs, I'll get my coat.' She grumbled as she slipped on her old slippers. 

***

Leaning against his car door, Tommy looked up from the haze of smoke and found three figures of varying stature standing in front of him.

_What in the..._

One of them was beaming, the other was smiling and the last one had the nastiest scowl on her face. 

For a second no one spoke, then the youngest, whose name Tommy always forgot, walked forward to knock on the door as if she owned the house.

'Hello, Mrs. Gray.' She greeted after his aunt opened the door. 

Polly smiled and gestured at them, 'Come on in, girls.' 

Eloise watched her sisters go in one by one and just when it was her turn to enter, Bianca said from inside, 'You wait here.'

'But why?' She asked in mild frustration. If she couldn't come inside, what was the purpose of bringing her?

Her question remained unanswered as her sisters slammed the door in her face. She looked around in annoyance, which grew even more when she noticed that only Tommy was there to keep her company. 

She wanted to leave before he sent her away himself, but all she did was lean against the car door, keeping as much distance between him and her as possible. 

He wanted to send her away, and remind her that she wasn't supposed to be here, but all he did was offer her a cigarette. 

'Truce lasts till morning.' He said at her wary look in his direction. 

'Family day?' She asked suspiciously but finally took the cigarette from him. 

'Yep.' He nodded and chucked the matchbox in her direction. She caught it deftly, and as she lit the cigarette, asked, 'Who's the bride?'

But he didn't answer, more interested in looking at her as she took the first puff.

Smoke blew out of her nose even before she could exhale it through her mouth, and he shook his head at her blissful look. 

'What?' She asked as she took the cigarette out of her mouth. 'I haven't smoked in years.' She said with a wistful look in the stick's direction. 

'Do you still blow rings?' He asked despite himself, crossing his arms across his chest.

She was eighteen when she had pulled out the cigarette from between his lips and kept it between her own. In his preoccupation with the fact that they were almost kissing, he had forgotten that she never smoked, but she had stumped him from blowing near perfect rings with the smoke. When he had asked her about it, she said she had learnt it from a book. What fucking book taught you how to blow smoke rings? But she had stayed true to her conviction and never divulged more. He still thought she had learnt it from the girls at the teaching school, or perhaps a boy who deserved to be cut for letting small girls like Eloise smoke. 

'I don't know if I can. But I can try.' She added with rare excitement in her words. Tommy gestured at her to go on with her mischiefs with a small smile, and she took a deep drag before pulling her cheeks inside, forming an 'O' with her perfectly arched lips.

Tommy looked away from her to avoid his wicked mind from wandering elsewhere. Thankfully, his discomfort was hidden by the loud rumble of engine which distracted them both and made them look at the newly arrived members, smoke rings and wayward thoughts forgotten. 

Tommy walked ahead to peruse the car, leaving Eloise behind to peruse John's lovely bride. Judging from John's elated look, she doubted he was averse to his bride and she reluctantly decided to forget the "crimes" Tommy had committed to get the wedding done.

The door of the house opened at that moment and Polly emerged in an attire Eloise had seen her wear years ago at some wedding she had also tagged along to. 

'Your sister's in there giving birth and you're talking about bloody cars.' Polly chided as she sent the bride in. 

'Not much us men can do now, Pol.' Tommy shrugged. 

'Except go and get drunk.' 

Eloise chuckled at Arthur's not so funny joke and Tommy looked at her funny for a moment before turning around. 

'There is one man that should be here.' Polly said quietly and he turned back again slowly. 

'You're right, Pol. Freddie should be here.' 

Eloise's eyes almost fell out of their sockets, and she looked at Polly to find the same expression on her face too. 

'Is that a heartbeat I hear inside that chest?' She asked, and when she noticed Eloise shivering, either from cold or shock, she said, 'Come on in, Eloise. You'll freeze outside.' 

She complied with the order without any reservations, and left Polly to call Freddie as she made her way inside 6, Watery Lane.

***

GARRISON 

‘I think it’s that lovely barmaid, the pretty barmaid that’s made our brother go soft.' 

Tommy smiled and Arthur continued, encouraged by his dispassionate brother's response. 

'Thank God for her, or our Tommy here, would’ve died a virgin.’ 

‘Died waiting for that schoolteacher across the street.’ John slurred. 

Tommy’s smile faded a little, but he didn't correct his brothers; it would only turn the atmosphere sour, and he wasn't in the mood to fight today. 

‘Yeah, Tommy. Does she know you are still after _Eloise Mary Beckett_?’ John prodded, a hint of anger in his words and Tommy wondered if Bianca's words from the morning held weight.

Did John love her since they were kids? Did she love him back too? That thought didn't set well with him, but he forced his face to stay impassive.

‘E would’ve cut ya for even takin’ ‘er name, John. And ya wanted to marry ‘er.’ Arthur jeered drunkenly, and the air became suddenly heavy, not on Eloise's behalf but rather on John's. John, who didn't even get to choose his bride because Tommy didn't want a war, because Tommy didn't want them to lose. 

***

WATERY LANE

After a particularly painful labour, which made all the Beckett sisters swear off from ever having children, Karl Thorne arrived in the house in Watery Lane. 

'Hold him, Ellie.' Ada told her childhood friend after everyone had had their turn with the baby, and Eloise took him with hesitant hands. He looked so fragile and vulnerable, and she was afraid of breaking him with her skinny arms. 

‘He’s beautiful.’ She murmured. 

‘I'll never send him to your school, though.' Ada said good-naturedly and everyone chuckled, but Eloise was still looking intently at the small bundle in her arms. Maybe because of the smile playing on the baby's face, or his warm feel in her hands, there was a sudden, strange pricking behind Eloise's eyes. 

She handed the baby back to Ada, hiding her face lest the evidence of her weakness showed.

‘I am sorry. I’ll-’

Ada gave a kind smile as she laid the baby back on her lap. 

‘Come, Eloise. Let’s have some tea.’ Polly said gently but the order was unmistakable. 

‘It’s fine. Polly. We are leavin-' She stopped when she realised both of her sisters were busy; Bianca in chatting with John's bride, whose name she had found out was Esme Martha Lee. (Almost serendipitous?) and Emma in playing with the baby. 

'Come.' Polly said and led her towards the kitchen. 

'New tea-set?' Eloise asked when they were seated across each other, and looked at the china cups in interest. 

'Just bought it. The old is still there, though.' She said as she poured the tea for both of them. 

Eloise gave a short laugh as she picked up her cup, well aware of Polly's hoarding habits. Everything has a story behind it, she used to say when Eloise asked why she kept everything and never threw anything.

‘What did you tell Tommy about that barmaid?’ Polly asked suddenly, making Eloise choke a little on the tea. After regaining her breath, she said with a dismissive wave, ‘Oh, nothing. Nothing important.’

She didn't say that out of malice, but because it didn't matter what Grace did anymore. After what Tommy had done today, she had to admit that the barmaid was a good influence on him. He had talked to her without once calling her a whore, a feat which had surprised, rather shocked Eloise no end. If Tommy was becoming a better person because of Grace, Eloise didn't feel her shady activities were worth mulling over. 

‘According to him.’ Polly pointed out. 

‘Isn’t he always right?’ Eloise shrugged, hiding her smile as she took a sip of the tea. 

But Polly didn't understand the joke and touched Eloise's hand. ‘You can tell me, Eloise. I am here to listen, always.' 

She smiled and kept her hand on Polly's. ‘There’s nothing to tell, I promise. I am just happy he’s smiling again.’

Eloise’s eyes widened at her confession, even more when she realised it was the truth. Despite everything he had done, she still wanted him to be happy. Not that he had done anything gruesomely wrong to her. Considering the amount of hurt she had seen, his few jeers were hardly worth crying over. And unlike the others, he had always been like this; tactless, miles away from diplomacy.

A soft smile formed on her lips at the old memory and disappeared immediately at Polly's insightful words. 

‘Sometimes, I think there is something. Other times, I am not so sure.’ 

‘About what?’ Eloise asked, having no inkling whatsoever about what Polly was thinking and why she was smirking. 

‘Nothing. Drink.’ Polly ordered and was getting up when Eloise asked, ‘Do you know where Dad-’

‘Freddie's here!’ Emma's scream from outside interrupted her burning question but she let it go. It was their day and she was no one to ruin it by her dismal troubles. 

They both went out in the living room where the baby's Dad was and as Eloise watched him coo loving words to his son, the tears which had apparently dried rolled down her cheeks. She walked out of the room as memories of her own father came hurtling towards her, and she remembered he spoke to her just like Freddie was presently speaking to Karl. 

'He'll come back soon, Ellie.' Bianca whispered from behind. She nodded and smiled a watery smile, lost in her thoughts.

Sudden knocking on the door broke through the room and both of them scampered towards the living room, only to see several coppers trampling inside the house. 

'What is happening?' Eloise asked, even as she saw the coppers manhandle Freddie and Esme trying to stop them. 

'You're hurting him!' Ada cried in distress as they helplessly watched the coppers take Freddie away. 

'But Tommy...' Eloise began but couldn't complete her sentence. He couldn't do that. He couldn't be so cruel and heartless, not when she had started to trust him again. 

'He fucking lied.' Polly spat, and left the house before anyone could stop her. No one wanted to either, and Eloise would've gone after him herself if Polly hadn't. He wasn't human enough to matter anymore to her; in his chase of becoming a name, he had become dead instead. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's getting hot/cold with Tommy and Eloise and it's like the longest slow burn in history of slow burns (18 years!!)  
> But please let me know your thoughts. I'll be infrequent in posting due to my back-to back semester exams and finals, but I won;'t let the story suffer.  
> P.S. - I actually cried in the scene where they took Freddie away...(why would you do that, Grace?😭)  
> PPS- I loved that grey suit of Tommy's, before I saw the others of course (wedding suit *swoon*)


	10. Friends Again? Maybe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey all, so happy to see you here!! Hope you like this chapter.  
> Ps. I am still sad about Peaky Blinders ending, so you may find this chapter a bit off

_“What friends had I on, earth? "_

_Villette_

Sometimes, Eloise wondered why she bothered with her unruly hair. No amount of teasing or combing managed to quell them, and if she did manage to force them into a bun, they sprang up like tiny corkscrews by the end of the day. 

‘Ellie, aren’t you late for school?’ Bianca asked as she rubbed her own silky tresses dry. 

‘I am. But my hair...’ She broke off when the comb snagged at a stubborn knot. 

‘It looks nice like this. Why don’t you leave it open?’ Bianca consoled as she touched her sister's hair. 

‘Because it’s a hassle.’ She said, bunching her hair in a haphazard bun. 

‘Huh.’ There was a hidden meaning in short exhale of breath, and Eloise glowered at her sister. ‘What?’

‘Nothing. You’re late.’ 

A sigh of distress left her mouth, and she let her hair fall in its chaotic mess. ‘Guess I’ll have to settle with this then.’

‘It’s not that bad. Just a little...’

‘Bad. I know.’ She muttered as she picked up her bag, and reached for the door. 

‘Have a nice day.’ Bianca called from behind. 

‘You too.’

She was finally leaving for school when her gaze fell on Violet, serenely sitting on the sofa and tending to her stitching.

‘Did you get a letter from Dad?’ She asked, bouncing on her heels. 

‘I didn’t. Just like yesterday.’ She replied with forced patience. 

‘Aren’t you worried?’ There was a hint of reproach in her question, but Violet didn't lose her genteel behaviour. 

‘He is his own man. My worrying won’t turn him around.’

‘But, he could be-’

‘He’s fine, Ellie.' She stressed, and added before Eloise could question her further, 'Did you check the scuttle? I think we’ve run out of coal.’

‘I’ll get it after school.’ 

‘Do you have money?’

‘I do.’ She muttered, wondering, not for the first time about where the money from Violet's stitching went. 

‘At least one good thing came out of your father’s going away.’

Sudden tears pricked at the back of Eloise's eyes, and she turned away from the former seamstress who had been lifted from poverty by her 'debt-ridden' father. 

‘Yeah.’

***

 _Eloise_ 14, _Tommy_ 18

‘Dad!’

‘Yeah?’ David asked without looking up from the paper in his hand. 

‘Tommy isn’t talking to me.’ She whined as she sat down next to him on the ottoman. 

‘Why?’ He asked distractedly, still busy reading the party manifesto.

After years of working in London and earning himself a small fortune, he had returned to Birmingham in hopes of giving back to the city which had raised him. But soon, he found his staunch capitalist stance weaken under the terrible conditions his people lived in. They needed something more than factories and industries and electricity; something which would change the fucked-up power structure of making the rich richer and the poor poorer. With that in mind, he and a few like-minded men had joined the Communist party. Up until now, there had been little success, but he knew they would soon pick up the pace. They had too, or they would collapse under the mounting expenses. 

‘Ask him.’ His daughter pointed an accusatory finger at Thomas, and David's eyes lit up. The party needed boys like Tommy, boys who believed in justice and fairness and were willing to work for it. It was a good thing he wanted Tommy to join the party, or he wouldn't be so open to the idea of his daughter spending every passing second with the young Blinder. 

‘Mr Beckett.’ Tommy nodded and sat down on the chair in front of him. There was a muted arrogance in Tommy, as if he didn't need a high rank or money to assert his competence. He was very much content in what he was, but wouldn't hold back from helping those who weren't. 

‘Thomas, is Eloise troubling you?’ He asked through his gold-rimmed glasses and set the manifesto down. He was pleased to find Tommy's eyes linger on it for a moment too long. 

‘No!’ Eloise yelled before Tommy could say anything. Not that he would say anything against her. In the six years of properly knowing him, she had realised that Tommy was someone who never turned his back on his friends. Even if it meant getting in trouble himself. 

‘I asked him, young lady.’

There was a warning in his polite words, and Eloise stomped her foot in anger. 

‘You always take his side.’

‘Now, tell me what happened.’ He asked Tommy, both of them ignoring Eloise's outburst. 

‘Nothing.’ Tommy shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. 

‘Ellie pushed him in the cut!’ The seven-year old Bianca announced with a cackle as she made her way towards her father's lap. 

‘I didn’t push him! We were playing and his foot slipped.’ Eloise clarified, but her father had already reached his conclusions. 

‘Why did you push him, Eloise?’ He asked, gently patting Bianca's head. 

She looked at Tommy in mutiny, ordering him to help her out but he was too interested in her Dad's paperweight. 

‘Eloise?’ David prodded. 

‘He made fun of my hair. And told me there was a bee stuck inside it.' She said with forced restrain, remembering how she had jumped around the cut with a 'bee' in her hair. 

‘I don’t remember.’ Tommy said blankly. 

‘Liar!’

‘Eloise.’ David warned his daughter again. 

‘I hate you, Dad. And you too.’ She threw in Tommy's direction before leaving the house, infuriated by the rumble of laughter that followed in her wake. 

She didn't know what happened after she left, but for the first time, Tommy didn't come after her. 

***

Eloise's blurry-eyed journey to school came to a halt when a person she didn't want to see for ever came in her way. 

‘Tommy.’ She greeted in half-surprise, half-anger. 

He kept looking at her for a long moment before asking disinterestedly, ‘Were you crying?’ 

She inhaled deeply before sidestepping, both him and his question. ‘It’s been good seeing you, but-’

He gripped the handle of her cycle to a stop and said, ‘Wait for a moment.’

‘What?’ She demanded. 

He began with his patent answer to anyone who thought he had shopped Freddie; anyone who mattered that is. ‘I know you don’t believe me-’ 

‘And you have no reason to care about what I believe or not.’ She said plainly, already dreading the conversation. While she knew Tommy had committed the biggest sin of betrayal, she was a little saddened by the amount of hate he was getting. It was almost like being thrown into the past, where Tommy was the one who got the brunt of his father's ire and beatings. 

‘I need a favour from you.’

‘Is it about Ada?’ She asked, dismissing his talking round the topic. 

‘Yes, it is.’ He said slowly with a nod. 

‘Why did you do that, Tommy?’

There was no accusation in her words, just tired resentment, as if she didn't expect more from him. Strangely, it made him feel worse.

‘I didn’t' was his automatic answer. He waited for her to call him a liar, but was surprised to find her mulling over his words. Using that moment as his window, he said coolly, ‘She is alone with the baby, and she isn’t speaking to us. If you could...’

‘I already went there yesterday.’ She interrupted him, silently telling him she didn't need to be told. 

‘What did she say?’ He asked impatiently. 

‘She refused to let me in.' She said shortly, and added before he could ask more, 'But she agreed after I called you a swindler and a ruthless bastard who deserves to have his eyes gnawed out by eagles.’ She dead-panned. He winced.

‘The baby's always crying, she isn’t eating, but Ada would rather live in that basement than talk to you.’

He shook his head a little, ‘It wasn’t me.’

‘I don’t care.' She said apathetically. 'But instead of proving yourself right, try to do something about it.’ There was a hint of goading in her words, and he looked at her in question. 

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know people, Tommy. Why can’t you get Freddie out?’

He scoffed, ‘I am not the fucking police, Eloise.’

She clenched her teeth in irritation. ‘Can’t you do this for your best mate? He is the reason why you’re alive.’

There was an uncomfortable pause before Eloise continued, ‘Look, I know you don’t see eye to eye with Freddie on lots of things. But at one point, you stood together for the cause.’

She didn't know why she said that, and regretted it immediately when she saw a cynical smile curve on his lips. 

‘The good old cause, eh? What ‘good’ came out of it, Eloise?’ He asked mockingly, undoubtedly suggesting towards her father's condition. Twice in one day she had been made cognizant of his helpless status, but she refused to give Tommy the satisfaction of seeing her cry in the streets. 

Against the lump in her throat, she said, ‘He is your family. And the Tommy I know would never turn his back on the people he cares about.’

She began to get on her pedal cycle, but he stopped her again with his demand, ‘Where are you going?’

‘School.’ She told him curtly. 

‘Can you take the day off?’ He asked her, but all she heard was an instruction. 

‘No.’ She bit out. For someone who had called her a whore on a regular basis, kissed her without her permission on two occasions, and didn't miss a single opportunity to make fun of her, he was being quite friendly today.

‘I need your help with something.’

She narrowed her eyes at him, all the while wondering what could she possibly help him with. When they were kids, he would ask her to help with the horses. Sometimes, he took her to the betting shop and showed her the ropes, an expert at everything when he was a kid himself. But now, there seemed no common ground of discussion between a school-teacher and a bookmaker. 

‘Why don’t you ask Grace?’ She said snidely, hating the hint of envy in her words. 

‘I’ll give you two pounds.’

‘Fuck off.’ 

‘Eloise.’ He warned.

'What can I help you with, Mr Shelby?' She asked with forced politeness. 

He didn't answer for a moment, looking at her with his hands inside his pockets, as if checking her credibilty. 'Keep a check on Ada.' He said at last. 

A little deflated by the paltry task, she muttered, 'You don't have to tell me that. I was planning to visit her after school.'

'Thank you.' 

'It's nothing.' She said in the same disappointed tone, all the while chastising herself for thinking he wanted to be friends again. 

_What did you expect, Eloise? That he would tell you everything like before?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, I know. But I am stuck on a scene and don't know how to end it. I'll be infrequent in posting, but will be much more frequent after the 20th. hang in there!  
> Thanks for reading!! Share your thoughts, pliss. I missed you all so much :"(


	11. Fight For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eloise and Tommy watch out for each other in their own ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! There is mention of child abuse, so tread lightly in this chapter.

_“You have no memory for the comfort and protection by which you soothed an acute distress? ”_

Villette, Charlotte Bronte

_'I need you to stop looking at me like that.’_

This is what Tommy had wanted to tell Eloise when she stood before him on her rickety bicycle, looking like a fifteen year old with the dark fracas of curls falling all over her face and hope shining in her clear grey eyes. 

He liked that she was helping Ada, but her delusional ideas about him were beginning to perturb him. While it felt good to have someone besides Grace on his side, the fact that it was Eloise made things worse. She wasn’t supposed to talk to him like that, not after what he did, not after how he treated her.

But she being the good-hearted Eloise didn't understand that she needed to stay away from him for her own benefit. She already hated him for his taunts and jeers, but if she knew who he was under the crudity and stolidness, she wouldn’t even be looking at him, much less parting words of advice to him. 

‘Who is David Beckett?’

Grace's question brought him out of his trance, and he looked towards her elegant form, completely out of place in the ramshackle pub. ‘What?’

She looked down at the ledger and repeated, 'David Beckett. You pay him two pounds every week.’

Not something he wanted to answer; moreover, it was not something that should concern her. 

‘So?’ He asked, trying hard to keep the coolness out of his words. Grace didn't deserve that. 

‘That's a lot of money. Does he work for you?’ She asked, and if she were someone else, he would've thought she was prying. But Grace didn't need to pry. Birmingham was new for her, maybe she was curious about the city. Maybe she wanted to stay here longer, perhaps forever.

Just that thought pleased him a little and he nodded in answer, ‘He does.’

‘His daughter is the school-’ She began, but he cut her off before things got uglier, before he was forced into the dangerous territory where Eloise and Grace dwelled together. 

‘Alright, Grace. You focus on the books, and not on the people that don’t concern you.’ He said, softening the words with a short nod in her direction and left the Garrison for Watery Lane. 

****

The news of a former resident's homecoming made Eloise cut school at an abominably early hour and had her riding to Watery Lane at a dangerously high speed. 

‘Heard Mr Shelby is back.’ She panted her way inside the house even before Polly could fully open the door.

Polly made no move to stop her and just gave a stiff nod. 

‘He’s here.’ She said just as when Eloise's eyes landed on the man she hadn't seen in a decade, and didn't want to see forever. 

‘Oh.’

Ten years ago, she had wanted to say lots of things to him, things which were highly unsuitable for a girl from a good family. But now, standing in the Shelby dining room, she realised she didn't have anything to say to the person who was not only a sorry excuse for a husband, father and brother, but also a human being. 

‘Isn’t that David Beckett’s daughter? The one Tommy was after?' He asked Polly, as if Eloise wasn't in the room. The smirk on his face grew as he took in Eloise's faded-to-threadbare clothes, a far cry from the vibrant dresses she wore before the war. 'How’s your Dad, girl?’ He jeered, perhaps expecting Eloise to burst into tears like before. But this Eloise had tamed the worst of Birmingham's children; a weakling who abandoned his family didn't stand a chance in front of her. 

‘Much better than you, Mr Shelby.’ She said politely, holding her ground before the still formidable form of Arthur Shelby Senior. 

‘Ellie.’ Arthur Shelby Jr. warned from the table and she shook her head in disdain at his obedient form. But she didn't want to anger anyone in the room by her insolence; maybe they still wanted to reunite with their father after all he had done. 

‘I was just leaving.' 

Polly took it as her cue to gratefully leave the room, 'I'll come with you. Need to clear the bills for the clothes.' She added at Eloise's confused expression. 

Arthur Shelby chuckled. ‘You have the Becketts working for ya? Times _are_ good, then.’

It was all incentive Eloise needed to revert to her old ways. ‘How are _you_ , Mr Shelby? I hope you had a good time sailing around the world while your kids starved.’

‘Go, Ellie.’ Arthur said curtly while John took a step in her direction; to protect her or hit her, she didn't know. Either was bad for her, but she was too far gone to stop now.

‘Why did you come back though?’ She asked, feeling increasingly incensed by his complacence and lack of guilt. 

He leaned further on his chair and regarded her with his dark, shrewd eyes, ‘While I don’t feel it’s important to answer a girl like _you_ , I came back for my family.’ There was a smugness in his words, as if he were proud of himself for coming back, an action which did nothing to calm Eloise's anger. 

‘Then why did you leave?’ She continued in her deadpan voice. 

‘That's enough, Ellie. Go back home.’ It was Polly. Polly who had seen the fire of rage in her brother's eyes, who wanted to save the foolishly brave girl from impending trouble. But Arthur Shelby wasn't giving up, especially not to some girl. 

‘It’s a bit grand coming from you, girl, whose mother's tales are legend in the entire Midlands.’ 

Eloise flinched. It was like someone stabbed a dagger straight into her heart. No one ever talked about her mother, not even her own father.

Holding back the sudden sting of tears, she met Arthur Shelby's gaze with enough ice to freeze hell. ‘At least she had the decency to never show up on our doorstep like a money-grubbing degenerate.’ She almost spat before leaving the house, seconds away from bursting into tears. But it had to wait, because as fate would have it, she met Tommy at the door. 

‘Why are you here?’ He demanded, taken aback by her presence in Watery Lane. 

A part of her, a very big part, wanted to hold his hand and take him away from the man sitting inside. But she just shook her head and muttered, ‘Brought Polly’s clothes.’

'I thought you had school.' He wondered aloud. 

'Came back early.' She said in the same hushed voice, not meeting his eyes. 

His hand reached to touch her cheek and she took a step back in reflex. He looked away from her and said in a controlled voice, ‘There’s something on your face.’

She rubbed her face with unnecessary force and found a remnant of chalk dust on her chin, as she tried her best to avoid Tommy's piercing gaze. 

‘All gone.’ She smiled sadly at his confused form, remembering the rainy day seventeen years ago when a small boy with a bruise on his cheek had offered to take her home.

He moved closer suddenly, perhaps surprised by the utter sadness on her face, or the circumstances leading to their meeting. But she stepped out of his way before saying, ‘Have a good day.’

The moment Tommy went inside, all his confusion cleared and he understood why Eloise had looked like she was holding back a bucketful of tears.

Arthur Shelby, the cold-hearted selfish bastard that he was, must have said something her soft heart hadn’t been able to take. He didn’t know whether to feel angry on her behalf, or pity her condition. But it was his duty to make things right for them. 

'Get out.' 

**Tommy 16, Eloise 12**

‘Tommy!' Eloise's happy screech carried through the hallway of the house in Garrison Lane, making the quiet Tommy look up suddenly. The house was empty except for the both of them, a social scandal even in a town like Small Heath. But the Becketts were visiting Violet's family in Worcestershire, and the 'trustworthy' Tommy had been asked to house-sit. Actually, Ada had been asked to house-sit, but since she was busy doing whatever she did (not shooting rats with revolvers), he had been chosen her replacement.

He wanted to be there too. Eloise's house wasn't dirty and dilapidated like his; it was warm and welcoming. Well, at least when Violet Beckett wasn't there. And thankfully, she was out in the country visiting family. Everything was going well for him, except for his face, which was looking like a fucking punching bag. 

'Did you bring something for me?' Her eager question remained unanswered when she saw his face and a horrified gasp escaped her mouth. ‘Oh, God. What happened to your face?’

‘Nothing.’ He said shortly, but her hands were already touching the bruised red of his jaw. 

‘You're hurt.' She cried, as if she was feeling his pain. 

He turned away from her and said with excess force, ‘I said, nothing.’

But she made him to look at her by grabbing him by his chin. ‘Let me see.’

His jaw was badly bruised, and there was a small gash on the side of his cheek, perhaps caused by the ring of the attacker. She reached to touch it, but he winced and pushed her away, ‘Get the fuck away from me.’

‘Shut up.’ She replied in a harsher tone, no longer scared of him and his empty threats. He sighed in defeat, regretting his decision of visiting her.

‘It’s like someone hit you.’ She murmured, her eyebrows knitting in pain and anger. 

‘I had a fight.’ He bit out in hopes of making her stop with her ministrations and solicitude. But she just narrowed her eyes at him. 

‘Stop lying. Your hands are clean, it’s just your face.' She said pointedly. 'Either you were sleeping during the fight, or someone bigger than you hit you. Was it Mr Shelby?' She asked hesitatingly. 

Any other day, he would've joked about her reading too many detective novels, but today, all he could say was, 'Shut up, Eloise.' There was a hint of entreat in his rude words, his eyes begging her not to ask more. 

She tried to smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. Getting up from the sofa, she held out her small hand in his direction, 'Come with me, I’ll put something on it.’ 

He shook his head, slightly embarrassed that a kid was seeing him like this. ‘I don’t need anything, Eloise.’

‘But I’ll give it anyway.’ She said gently, her clear innocent eyes devoid of pity or mockery. 

***

That night, when the family came back home, they found everything in its proper place. But Violet's sharp seamstress's eyes didn't miss the drops of blood and leftover cotton on the kitchen floor. 

‘Why is there blood in the kitchen, Ellie?’ She asked her sleeping stepdaughter, who woke up with a start at her words. Violet was soft, unlike the other people of Small Heath, but something in her eyes made Eloise swallow empty air. 

‘I cut my hand while making a sandwich.’ She replied in a small voice, burrowing her uncut hand deeper in the covers. She hoped Violet wouldn't demand to see it, but she had forgotten that her stepmother had more pressing concerns. 

‘Couldn’t you clean it?’ There was a note of terseness in her voice. 

‘I am sorry.’ 

'Was the Gypsy boy here?' She asked in suspicion. 

She shook her head quickly but didn't like the way Violet referred to Tommy. _Gypsy boy._ Why did Violet call him that? Why didn't she take his name? Or anyone's name from his family for that matter? One day, she would ask her, but today, she wasn't old enough to understand how her stepmother's mind worked. 

'Good. Otherwise I would have to count the silver.' 

She couldn't stop herself from responding to that accusation and said stiffly, 'Tommy doesn't steal.' 

Violet had a small smile on her face as she bent down to smooth Eloise's hair, a gesture whose softness was marred by the jibe of her words, 'You're still a child, Ellie. I know you like them, but there is no reason to become like them.' 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you liked this chapter. Please share your thoughts, whatever comes to your head when you read it, just type it out. (watery eyes)  
> I'll upload somewhere around 20th (crying eyes) But stick around, we're getting to the interesting parts with Grace's secret coming out soon.  
> Love you all <3
> 
> *I am pretty certain Arthur Shelby used to hit Tommy, and the scene from episode 5 confirmed my doubts. He IS a selfish bastard.


	12. Wicked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, so glad to have you here. You'll find more of Grace in this, please bear with me if you aren't fan. I want to develop a relationship between Eloise and Grace, and so I had to bite the bullet.

_“Are there wicked things, not human, which envy human bliss?”_

Villette, Charlotte Bronte

‘There’s a woman he knows.’ Grace revealed in hushed tones at their secret spot. 

‘Eloise Beckett?’ Campbell guessed. 

‘How do you know her?’ She almost demanded. 

‘He sent letters to her during the war. She isn’t an ally, but she won’t go against him.’ He declared, making her wonder how he knew so much without ever meeting her. But she paid more attention to the task at hand. 

‘He’s paying money to her father. Maybe he is the bigger fish, rather than Freddie Thorne.’ She said, hoping her guilt about giving up Freddie Thorne wasn't evident. She had felt a strange emotion when she saw Tommy bear the brunt of her mistake, but his estrangement with his family had brought him closer to her. Something which had proved helpful to both her and her superior for their operation. If only she could suppress the feelings developing inside her for the gangster she was going to betray. 

‘He’s a useless drunkard. Unable to put together even two sentences.’ Campbell said dismissively. 

‘It can be a cover.’ She stressed but he wasn't hearing it. 

‘Dig deeper. That man isn’t even in Small Heath.’ He said before leaving with furtive steps. 

_But his daughter is._

Grace knew had nothing to worry about. That Eloise woman was haggard, her prettiness only a remnant of lost youth. Through town gossip, Grace also knew that she was a jilted woman, which meant she loved someone other than Tommy. Then what did Tommy see in her? He told her things, but he refused to tell her anything about his fixation with the woman. It was time for her to take things in her hand.

***

‘I swear Bianca, if you ever tell anyone...’ Eloise’s musical, slightly throaty voice cut through the noise and Tommy glanced in her direction for the briefest of seconds. She was looking happy today, and despite her annoying habit of nagging him, she deserved some acknowledgement for helping him with Freddie's situation. He pulled out another coin from his pocket and kept it before the barman. 

‘Harry, whatever she’s having, it’s on the house.’ He said with a pointed glance in Eloise's direction. 

'Yes, Mr Shelby.' Harry nodded before turning to face Grace, who was quietly taking in the scene with her perceptual eyes. Flicking the coin in the drawer, he chuckled, ‘I wonder why he bothers with it. She never leaves without paying.’

‘Does he love her?’ She asked suddenly.

‘Ellie?’

Grace gulped in some invisible courage before nodding,‘Yes.’ 

‘There are some things best left unanswered.’ The barman declared, making Grace want to hit something, or someone very badly for their dawdling. 

‘What do you mean?’ She asked through gritted teeth, forcing wide-eyed curiosity in her words. 

‘They were friends.' 

Some friends, Grace thought as she remembered the way Eloise looked at Tommy; as if he were her favourite, but the naughtiest child. 

‘Were they engaged?’ She asked as nonchalantly as possible as she wiped the counter. 

Harry laughed shortly. ‘To other people, yes. But things didn’t work out for either of them.’

This. Finally she had the opportunity to bring up the 'Desertion of Eloise Beckett'. ‘I heard she was jilted. Who was her man?’ Grace asked softly. 

‘Some doctor from the city. He...’ Harry begun, but stopped to cast a glance in the parlour's direction. 

‘What?’ She prodded. 

‘He wasn’t very friendly with the Peaky Blinders. Some say that’s when Tommy and Eloise drifted apart.’ 

It took all her strength to keep the shock out of her voice. ‘Did they have a brawl over her?’

Harry shook his head, eyes still on the closed parlour window. ‘No, that would be silly. But George Nash was never a favourite.' 

‘Where is he now?’ Grace asked as she looked at the plain, sad-eyed Eloise, unable to keep herself from wondering if a woman like her was even capable of loving someone. 

‘We don’t know. Nobody bothered, to be frank.’ Harry shrugged. 

‘Are Tommy and the woman close?’

‘Close?' He scoffed. 'Mr Shelby wouldn’t hesitate to kill for her, not even when she barely acknowledges his presence. They say she’s the only one who can make the devil kneel.’ 

That didn't set well with Grace, but she needed to extract more information. ‘I noticed.' She murmured as she watched Eloise's sister whisper something in her ear. 'She isn’t like the others in front of him.’

‘That’s Eloise Beckett for you. Too bad she doesn’t know the effect she has on him.’ Harry said regretfully, which made Grace feel a little better. It sounded pathetic, but she didn't want Eloise to come in between her and Tommy. Why? She didn’t know. Maybe she did, and didn't want to accept it for it went against her orders. She couldn't fall for the enemy, a criminal when she was herself a servant of the crown. 

‘Now that you’re finally getting married, I thought I would give you my present.’ Eloise announced as she pulled out a small box from her coat pocket. 

‘Ellie, it isn’t necessary.’ Bianca insisited with a warm smile. 

‘Shut up. Of course it’s necessary, you’re getting married.’ She said, trying her best to control the pressure behind her eyes. 

‘Well, what is it?’

‘Open it.’

‘Oh! This...’ Bianca looked at her sister in amazement, too shocked to say anything. In the perfectly wrapped gift box was Eloise's twenty year old silver comb, the one she had 'inherited' from her mother. Or rather the only thing Eloise's mother had left behind for her. 

‘Yeah. You always liked it, didn’t you?’ Eloise's eyes twinkled with warmth and love. 

Tears filled in Bianca’s own eyes and she stammered, ‘But this is...’

Eloise held her sister's hands in hers and said in earnest, ‘I’ll never need it.’

Bianca pulled her in a tight hug, and mumbled in her shoulder, ‘I don’t deserve you.’

‘You don’t. But I’ll miss you when you’re gone.’

‘Come with us.’

She chuckled dismissively, ‘I am better off here than with you kids.' 

_Kids. As if she were an old maid who sewed and chaperoned her sister._

Shuddering away her discomfort, she focussed on what Bianca was telling Hugh, ‘I just wish Dad was here for the wedding.’ 

‘Did you ask Tommy?’ Eloise asked, casting yet another glance towards the door behind which Tommy was. 

‘I did. He doesn’t know, and I don’t think he’s kind enough to help Dad. Hugh checked too. But there’s no record of him anywhere.’ Bianca finished with a frown, and Hugh hurried to gently rub her shoulder. 

‘That’s Dad for you. But wherever he is, he’ll be thinking about you.’ Eloise said soothingly as she took a healthy gulp of the whisky. 

Bianca raised a doubtful brow but Eloise brushed it off. Her father was tormented, not cold enough to disregard his children. Maybe. 

‘To Dad.’ She raised her glass, and beseeched her sister to join in, ‘Come on.’

‘To Mr Beckett.’ Hugh joined but Bianca just shook her head in disgust. 

‘Bianca...’

‘What, Eloise? He was never a Dad. For you maybe, but I and Emmaline never got anything but a ‘Oh, well another girl’ from him.’ She muttered angrily. 

‘He loves us all.’ 

‘Then where is he? Why isn’t he with the daughter who is getting married tomorrow? Why isn’t he with his ten year old kid who still wets her bed? Why isn’t he with you, his favourite fucking daughter who was abandoned by the only man she loved?’ She shouted in the suddenly quiet pub before hurrying out with tears in her eyes. 

Eloise followed behind in an instant, carefully avoiding Tommy who had chosen that very moment to come out from the private parlour. 

******

Tommy didn't know what he was doing at the cut when there were more pressing issues to deal with. Like the IRA which wanted him dead, and Campbell who was as trustworthy as his father, his father who was nothing but a treacherous cheat. But after witnessing the scene Eloise's sister had created at the Garrison, he knew he would find her utterly foolish self at the cut, carelessly wandering like it was a garden of roses. And he was right, for she was presently walking dangerously close to the edge of the canal, her face turned up in the moonlight. 

'You're supposed to be at home.' He told her as he lit a cigarette, feigning nonchalance. She on the other hand, let out a guttural scream before yelling, ‘Tommy! You scared me.’

‘What are you doing here?’ He asked, rather scolded as she again turned her back to him. 

‘Nothin’.’ She muttered as she took off her coat.

‘Go back home.’ He said, almost cruelly as he edged closer towards her. 

‘Shut up.’ 

For once, he complied with her order, for he was too distracted by her actions. She was taking off her shoes, continuing with her faded stockings until her bare legs were visible for everyone to see. And by everyone, he was glad it was just him. Her legs were ordinary at best, a little too spindly for his taste and so he shouldn't be so bothered by the amount of skin she was showing. But he was, and he needed to do something, lest she undress entirely. 

‘Eloise.’ He began. 

‘Just shut up, Tommy.’ She said wearily as she sat down on the muddy ground, pushing back her heavy curls with one hand and dipping her legs in the dark water. Just like she did when Violet didn't take her to the fair, or when she had a row with him. 

He wanted to sit down next to her, dip his feet in the cold, dirty water and perhaps let her push him in the cut. But he wasn't the same man, and so instead, he just watched her from afar.

‘I know where he is.’

‘Of course you do. Liar.’ She gritted out, not believing him at all. 

‘He’s in London.’

‘Doing what?’ She asked scornfully, turning her neck a little. 

‘Getting himself treated.’

A soft gasp left her mouth, and she snapped her head in his direction. 

‘What for?’ She asked cautiously, fearfully. 

He exhaled the final stub before saying, ‘Cirrhosis.’ 

In a moment, she was out of the river, dripping water everywhere, heedless to her muddy feet as she advanced towards him. 

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ She demanded, unshed tears shining in her eyes. 

‘He asked me not to.’ He said gently, clenching his fist and tucking it behind safely. 

She took a deep breath, and said through forced patience, ‘I assume you’ve been sending money.’

He didn’t answer, just kept looking at the canal in front of him, away from her. 

‘How bad is it?’ She asked calmly. 

‘It’s not good.’

She was quiet for a while. Then he heard her sniffle, and knew he couldn't ignore that. 

‘Alright, now.’ He awkwardly patted her shoulder but she shrugged him away. 

‘Go away.’ She muttered, but the bite wasn't there. 

‘He’ll come back next week. To say his goodbyes.’

She looked at him, incredulous of his callousness as another wave of tears threatened to fall down. ‘How is that supposed to make me feel better?' 

‘Eloise...’ He unclenched his tight fist to touch her cheek with his thumb, removing a stray tear. 

‘Why didn’t he tell me?’ She asked in between heart-wrenching sobs. 

‘You know why.’ He said as gently as possible to soften the blow, but his words weren't gentle enough to stop her face from scrunching up in agony. 

‘Yes I do. Wish I didn’t.’ She whispered, no doubt remembering the day when that bastard broke her heart and she broke their promise. 

He sighed in frustration, then looked at her discarded clothes. 

‘I want you gone in the next five minutes.’ 

‘Go to blazes.’ She sneered through the wet curtain of tears before turning her back to him. She was leaving, and no longer looking at him. He should be happy, but he wanted her to seek comfort in him, wanted to have her at his mercy, wanted to make her stay and cry even though every bone in his body revolted against this depravity. 

'What did you say to Dad?' He almost threw up after saying the last word. 

'Go fuck yourself.' She muttered as she pulled on her stockings in a disturbingly unrushed manner. 

'In a lot more words, I suppose.' He held in a chuckle, remembering what John had told him about Eloise Beckett and Arthur Shelby's war of words. Caught up in reliving the event he had regretfully missed, he didn't realise when Eloise came to stand directly in front of him, her face ashen and eyes bloodshot.

'Be careful, Tommy. You're awfully close to becoming like him.' 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I can't wait to post more (just three more exams to go!!) Please share your thoughts, I missed you guys a lot.


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